The Dragonfly Effect
by layhee
Summary: Assigned to oversee a research outpost, SG-1 is essentially on holiday, until two months after their arrival, night finally falls, and things start to go very wrong... Follows two of the infinite possible realities, from a small diverging event. SamJack.
1. R1 Prologue

At first glance, P49 151 was a paradise. Habitable but uninhabited, with a wide range of scientifically fascinating flora, the first team to come across it had described it as an ideal site for research. Stargate Command had agreed, strongly enough to order the construction of a research outpost. Strongly enough to send Colonel Jack O'Neill to oversee its construction.

Colonel Jack O'Neill was not remotely interested in plants, not even amazing photo-something-or-other plants. Unfortunately for Colonel Jack O'Neill, Stargate Command was not remotely interested in changing the assignment.

Peevishly, the colonel toed a spot of moss. He'd been here for six days and absolutely nothing had happened that could possibly warrant military supervision. Nothing. No dangerous hallucinogenic plant fumes, no deranged scientists, not even a fuzzy hostile with teeth larger than his baby fingernail.

For the first couple of days, it'd been alright. He'd helped set up the outpost structures. It had been good work, tiring and satisfying, and in the humid sunlight he'd sweated enough to make even his fellow squad commandant, Maj. Chris Higgs, cringe away at his approach. That was all over now, though; the outpost was built. The usually unflappable SG-16 leader might have rejoiced at the promise of less stale man smell, but his relief was short-lived. There was now a bored, petulant colonel to deal with.

Jack's own team didn't seem to want to have anything to do with him, either. Daniel was engaged in poking about the surrounding jungle for traces of long-lost civilizations, and Carter had happily volunteered to help collect samples. Teal'c had been Jack's main comfort, but he'd left early that morning for Earth to lend a hand to the team dissecting their newest stolen Goa'uld technology. Jack was alone. It might not have been so bad if his Gameboy still worked, but the humidity had wreaked all kinds of hell on its innards and he'd yet to convince Carter to just take a _look_.

Stubborn woman. What was more important, clipping leaves or fixing a Gameboy? Irritably, Jack kicked another clump of moss and tried to ignore that the answer was probably the former.

He'd neither expected nor particularly wanted to come across her. He would much rather have sulked alone. But there she was, crouched on the ground, near completely concealed by low fronds. Between her dark undershirt and the green wide-brimmed hat hiding her identifying hair, there was little to set her apart from her leafy quarry. If not for a brief flash of pale arm, he might've walked right into her. And then he'd certainly never have gotten anywhere on the Gameboy front.

She didn't seem to have noticed him, or, and more likely, she was ignoring him. He watched her a moment, struggling to hold onto his irritation as she used the back of a grubby forearm to wipe sweat from her brow. She dropped her hand back to her work but raised her head slightly. "If you think I don't hear you, sir…" she said, a hint of a smile in her voice. So gathering plants made her happy. He stored the fact for future reference.

Jack exaggerated a sigh and stepped forward. "Can't sneak up on you, can I?" he pushed a leaf aside to clear his view of her. "You're no fun. Did you know that?"

She looked up at him. "I've been told. By you, if I recall correctly, sir."

"Only because it's true," he defended. Leaning forward slightly to see what she was working on, he asked, "Almost done?"

She closed the lid on her container and stood. "Just finished actually. What are you doing out here, sir? Something up?"

"Nope," he said emphatically. "Just… checking in. So." He jerked his head in the direction of the outpost. "Feeling about ready to head back?"

She nodded and patted her bag. "I have to get these back to Jenson for analysis."

"Good," said Jack. "Ill come with you."

The jungle was, as always, loud. With no regard for its human visitors' shorter day, it remained noisy all through their night. It was insects, for the most part, that made all the noise; tiny little chirping buggers that numbered far beyond the capacity of Jack's fly swatter. Even if he had had the slightest chance of making a dent in the population, he highly doubted his scientist _colleagues_ would have let him.

"You really don't have anything to do here, do you, sir?" Carter's voice startled him out of his mental complaints.

"Here specifically?" he clarified, looking around at the scenery. They'd emerged from the jungle and onto a rocky outcropping. "Or here as in on this planet?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her scrutinizing his face. "Does it make a difference?"

"No," he shrugged. "And… no."

She smiled slightly, turning back to the trail before her. "I didn't think so."

He stopped walking. "Hey." She turned back, a few yards ahead. "What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded irritably.

Her smile widened and she ducked her head, straightening her mouth with obvious difficulty. He glowered. "Lemme see those samples of yours," he said gruffly, holding out a hand. She gave them to him, those eyes of hers positively glowing with amusement. He'd show her. Oh yes. All these days of being Gameboyless were gonna get her back.

Feigning interest in the tiny plastic boxes and their contents, he eyed up the drop off from the edge of the outcropping. Six feet, give or take, and then a sparkling pool of water. He started walking again, moving subtly closer to the edge. She fell into step next to him.

"You know," he said slowly, "I bet I know something you don't."

Her eyebrows shot up. "What's that, sir?"

"You know where P90s are made?" He had her on this one, he was sure of it, even if it was only a distraction from his real plan.

"Belgium."

He stared at her. "Damn."

She offered him a helpless smile, to which he responded by seizing her about the waist and tossing her handily off the cliff. There was a loud yelp and then a splash, and he poked his head over the edge. A blond head surfaced, spluttering. "_Whoops_," he called down.

"Sir," she shouted, "you are _damn lucky_ you're holding my samples!"

"I'm also damn lucky I'm holding the only gun," he pointed out, tapping the Belgian submachine for emphasis. "But believe it or not, Carter, I did actually think ahead here. I'm not looking to find my rations poisoned."

She shook her head, bobbing in the water. He heard her muttering something, but couldn't make out the words. "What was that, Carter?" he called down.

"Oh," she said, looking up at him with a very fake smile plastered over her dripping face, "Nothing, _sir_. Just commenting how—" She broke off, her expression freezing.

He quirked a brow. "How?"

She was turning in place, arms fanning to keep herself afloat. "How I am quite definitely _not alone _here…" she finished, all menace gone from her voice. She was staring down, without a doubt looking for something.

She jerked, suddenly, and kicked out her legs, stroking powerfully for shore. Weighted down by boots and clothes, her progress was slow, but not for lack of trying. Something was very wrong. "Shoot!" she yelled, struggling to get her head above her own splashing. "_Shoot_, sir! Behind me!"

He couldn't see anything – the water, while blue and appealing, was cloudy. But if Carter said shoot, he'd shoot. And he did. Her already-churning wake exploded in tiny bursts, a multitude of fountains springing up and then vanishing. She was nearing the shore – just a few more strokes and she'd be safe from whatever she was running from. She gave a cry and disappeared beneath the surface for a moment, and his finger snapped off the trigger. Had he shot her? "Carter!" he yelled.

She broke out back into the air, gasping. "Keep shooting!"

The water was shallower there. She'd put her feet down and was pushing her way to safety, the water lapping at her waist, at her hips, her thighs, her knees… at last, she was on dry land. She kept running, as far as the first trees.

Jack made short work of finding a way down to her, over the rough stones of the cliff. When he reached her, she was leaning against a tree, watching the water carefully, her chest heaving. "What happened?" he demanded. "You okay?"

She nodded. "There's something in the water," she panted. "I think you hit it; there should be a body." Immediately, he headed for the shore. "Be careful, sir."

He was. His gun raised to his shoulder and pointed straight at the small shadow near the edge, he moved forward slowly. Close enough, he peered down at the shape. "I think it's dead," he called back. For caution's sake, he flicked the P90 into single shot and fired. The shadow didn't move. "Yep. C'mere, gimme a hand."

Eyes and gun on the water around him, he waded in. Whatever it was wasn't far out. He was up to his knees by the time he reached it, and prodded it dubiously with one leg. Getting no response, he stretched down one hand and grabbed it by what looked like an arm, narrow and hard as bone. Stepping backwards, he pulled, dragging it in with difficulty. Back on dry land again, he heaved the thing onto the sand and wrinkled his nose in distaste.

It was certainly an animal, or at least, part of one. It was torn and mutilated – he certainly hoped that wasn't what it normally looked like – with shreds of flesh hanging, dripping with murky water, from its edges. "You know, Carter," he said irritably, "You could've helped out there. This thing weighs a ton."

"Sir…" Her voice was surprisingly far away. He looked up; she was still by the tree, but sitting now and looking awfully strained. "I don't think that would've been such a good idea."

Abandoning the creature gladly, he hurried over to her and crouched down. "I thought you said you were okay," he muttered.

She gritted her teeth in something he thought might have been meant to be a smile. "I was," she said. "I thought I was."

"What happened?" he demanded.

"It's my leg, sir," she said, nodding towards the outstretched limb. The material of her uniform was dark with water and ripped in several places, but gave no glimpse of any wound beneath it. "I think the creature bit me."

"So I didn't shoot you," he said, relieved, shifting to have a look at her leg. He pushed the fabric back, revealing several narrow cuts and a mess of diluted blood. "Doesn't look too bad."

She shook her head. "No, sir. I didn't think it would've been such a good idea to get in the water with it, though. It's—" she caught her breath as he pushed her pant leg further back, bottom lip clamped between her teeth.

"Sorry," he winced.

"It's alright, sir." She grimaced, shifting against the tree trunk. "But I think it's spreading. I'm not feeling so good."

"Okay." Jack let out his breath in a whoosh, glancing over his shoulder at the lump of black meat on the shore. "Can you walk?" She nodded tightly. "Okay. I'm gonna get that… _thing_, and we'll head back for the outpost."

She nodded again and set about getting to her feet as he went back for the creature. She'd managed halfway when he returned with it under one arm. He looked down at her speculatively as she struggled to get her injured leg beneath her, then, decisively, he hooked his free arm beneath hers and hoisted her the rest of the way up. She raised her head in surprise. "Sorry, sir," she murmured. Her eyes slid sideways and his stomach lurched. There was definitely something in that bite. "'M tired…"

She was fading fast. There was no hesitation in his mind: Carter took priority over whatever nasty critter he had in his other hand. They could come back for _it_, but Carter needed help _now_. He dropped the lump of flesh and swung the major up into his arms. She made a vague noise of protest, eyes closed and head listing.

"Lose weight, Carter," he grumbled, breaking his stride to shift her in his grasp.

"Yessir…" she slurred, managing to get one of her arms around his neck. "Sorrysir…"

"You're not supposed to just agree to that one," he replied distractedly, his focus on moving as fast as possible. He should've radioed ahead, but that would've meant pausing. For now, he just had to get back, and he had to keep her talking. "You're supposed to kick me for that one, Carter. Come on."

"N…nossir…" she sighed. "Thassillegal."

"Okay," he agreed, "Fine. Wouldn't want to be kicked by you, anyway." Her lips quirked slightly, then relaxed, and her head pitched forwards. "Oh no, no you don't. Stay with me here, Carter. We're almost there."

She gave a small, slightly annoyed sound that might've been a protest against disturbing her sleep and he gave her a little shake. Her eyes snapped open, focussing briefly on her knee, and then fell closed again. "Just a little further," muttered Jack.

It was. Another few steps, and they burst through the edge of the jungle, into the camp. "Hey!" Jack shouted, "A little help here? Hey, doctor! Neil! Get a stretcher over here!"

* * *

As always, they were slower pulling themselves together than they should've been. By the time they'd finally brought a stretcher over and put Carter on it, she was entirely unconscious. Blocked by a surprisingly surly tech, Jack watched them go as they disappeared into the facility. Typical. Damn scientists.

He left, pacing a moment outside the door to the building before remembering the chunk of meat he'd left behind. He retraced his path through the jungle at a light jog and was back again within half an hour. Dumping it with little explanation and even littler preamble on one of the scientists, he made a beeline for the outpost's entrance.

Finding the way unbarred, he slipped inside and peered through the window into the facility's only emergency room. He stepped inside, making his presence known to the doctor – Cullins, from SG-16 – with a slight cough. "How is she?" he asked, approaching the one occupied bed.

"Okay," the doctor replied, "as far as I can tell. She's been out since you left. Whatever venom was in that bite, it doesn't seem to be anything more than a sedative. I've dressed and bandaged her leg; as soon as she wakes up she should be pretty much back to normal."

"Pretty much?" Jack echoed, watching Carter's relaxed face and feeling useless.

"Well," the doctor amended, "she'll have to take it easy on that leg for a couple days, but…" He shook his head. "It really isn't that serious a cut. She'll be fine."

Jack nodded and clapped the man on the back. "Great. You know what happened to that thing I brought back?"

"Jenson put it in Lab 3."

"Right. Thanks, doc."

In Lab 3, as it turned out, Jack felt even more useless. The creature—the part of the creature—was lying on a sterile-looking table, being hovered over by two of the base's outstanding minds. Jack meandered forward and peered over one of their shoulders, receiving a brief glance of exasperation. He rocked back on his heels and looked innocent. "Just curious," he shrugged.

No one took his hint.

He cleared his throat. Another scientist, who he recognized as the one he'd unceremoniously dumped the lump of flesh onto, turned. "Yes, colonel?"

"What is it?" he asked, nodding towards the thing.

"It's a leg," the scientist replied. "Or a fin. Both, actually."

"Both."

"Yes, sir," the other egghead piped up. "It appears that the animal is amphibious. When submerged, the bones in its legs spread out into fins, and when on dry land, they form back into proper legs."

Jack made a vague motion of understanding with his head. "And presumably you've made some sort of analysis of its venom?"

The scientists looked at each other.

"Some sort of threat analysis?" Jack tried. "Is it going to kill Carter?"

The scientists shifted a bit.

"Anything at all? Besides discovering how it _swims_?"

"Sir," the first scientist spoke up at last, "in all fairness, we don't really have much of it. I mean, this is just… a leg."

Jack looked at the severed flesh on the examination table. It was half his own height and decidedly looked nothing like a leg. "That's it? How big is this thing?"

The scientists looked helpless.

Jack threw his hands up in the air. "Who _hired_ you?" he demanded in frustration. "What am I supposed to report to Hammond? That something bit Carter and knocked her out and all we have to study of it is a _drumstick_?"

One scientist looked appropriately shame-faced.

The other snickered. Jack fixed him with a glare.

The sound of the door opening behind him saved the unfortunate man further discomfort. "Colonel."

Jack turned, smiling with false pleasure. "Higgs."

"What's going on?" the major asked. "What happened to Major Carter?"

"She got bit," Jack informed him. "By what, we're not sure yet." He glanced back to shoot another glare at the scientists and to demonstrate exactly _whose_ fault that was.

"Is she alright?"

Jack shrugged. "Doc says she will be."

Higgs nodded, approaching the table. "That's good. Is this what got her?"

The first scientist nodded. "Part of it, anyway. Colonel, do you think it would be possible to get a full specimen?"

Jack's brows shot up. "That thing almost ate Carter. You want me to go back and get another one?"

"We could set up a trap," Higgs suggested.

"Assuming the doc's right and Carter's gonna be fine," Jack said, "wouldn't it suffice to just put up a sign by the pond saying 'NO SWIMMING' in bright red paint?"

"That's true," the other scientist agreed. "It's not like we've seen them anywhere else. They may be strictly aquatic."

His colleague levelled an exasperated stare at him. "Larson, they're _amphibians_."

It was some time before they actually made any progress deciding what to do about their lack of knowledge on the creature. Daniel had wandered in, having heard some of the discussion from outside, and offered his opinion. Finally, they were interrupted by the door opening again and Sam hobbling in, bleary-eyed.

"What's going on?" she asked, one hand on the door frame and trying not to look like she was holding herself up with it.

"Carter," Jack began menacingly, "I thought the doc said to stay off your leg."

"I may have been unconscious at the time, sir," she pointed out.

He paused. "True. At least sit down."

Carter sat. "I overheard some of what you were saying," she said, blinking deliberately to clear her eyes. "I was thinking—"

"While you were unconscious."

"While I was standing outside," she clarified, barely sparing her CO an annoyed glance for his interjection, and then resumed. "We found the creature in the pond, where the water's murky. It's obviously amphibious, so why wouldn't it leave the water? I'm thinking it's photophobic. It probably only came as close to the surface as it did to get food: me." She looked around at her listeners, waiting for agreement or denial. Her eyes falling on Jack, she simplified, "Photophobic means light sensitive, sir."

"I know what it means, Carter," he snapped. "I just… don't know what it means. In terms of… importance."

Sam nodded. "Right. This planet's rotation is a lot slower than normal, right?" There were nods from the other scientists. "And that's why we're here, to study how plants deal with having such long periods of darkness and light. The axis-tilt also contributes to a distinct difference between the length of day and night, leaving us with a day of what, about three Earth months long? And a night of somewhere around four days."

"Get to the point, Carter."

"Yes, sir. What I'm saying is that if these things _are_ photophobic, the only thing keeping them in the bottom of the pond is the sunlight. Once that's gone, we're gonna see a lot more of them."

"Meaning we're going to have a big problem on our hands," Daniel put in.

"No," Jack said sarcastically, "Really?"

"Wait a minute here," the first scientist spoke up. "We don't know that. Not yet. These things might not even be that dangerous out of water. If I had a better sample for analysis, I might be able to give you a more definite answer."

"I'm not goin' back there!" Jack warned. "Make do with what you've got."

"Are we sure nothing like this has ever been noted before?" Sam asked. "We never saw these creatures in our preliminary scouting of the area?" The scientists shook their heads.

"So I guess the question is when night falls," Daniel shrugged.

Sam nodded, glancing at her watch. "It should be fairly soon, about forty hours from now."

Jack offered the scientists a humourless grin. "Who knows? Maybe you'll get your sample after all." He headed for the door. "I'm gonna call Hammond. You guys sit tight. Keep poking the drumstick."

* * *

Hammond, it turned out, was of the opinion that evacuation seemed a drastic measure. Besides, he'd pointed out, if these things actually do show up, leaving the base unoccupied would only lead to expensive loss of equipment and facility. The night was only ninety-two hours long. They were to stay, and make any fortifications they thought necessary. If need be, they could evac during the night, if the creatures proved too dangerous.

Jack returned to base with the news, and their orders. Any scientists not urgently—he quoted Hammond, not entirely sure how plants could really be _urgent_—needed in their botanic studies were to assist the military members of SGs-1 and -16 in setting up a defence perimeter.

They didn't get far. Already, it was nearing 2100, and, due in part to the confusion of the afternoon, no one had eaten yet. Daniel, perhaps more skittish about wandering around alone now than before, volunteered to help Younge cook, and by 2130, they'd broken for supper.

Jack joined Carter at her end of the table, where she was scribbling away on a piece of paper with one hand and tapping madly at her calculator with the other. "You know," he said, setting his bowl down across from her, "If you keep that up, your soup's gonna get awfully neglected. Not to mention cold."

She looked up. "Yes, sir," she agreed, a slightly delayed smile warming her face. "I'm just trying to get a more accurate calculation of how long we're going to be in night for." She pushed the paper towards him. "Here. I think that's right."

"Three hundred and thirty-three thousand, two hundred and fifty-two seconds?"

"Oh. Um, that's…" she paused, tapping the calculator again, "Ninety-two hours, thirty-four minutes, twelve seconds. Approximately."

"Approximately." Jack prodded a lump in his soup. "And night falls when?"

She looked down at her watch. "Thirty-four hours, twenty minutes. But it's a pretty gradual sunset – I'd say we have about thirty hours of real daylight left. There's no way to know what level of light the creatures can tolerate."

"So hurry and eat your soup," he said, jerking the butt end of his spoon at her still-full bowl, "and go to bed. We're gonna need all the military personnel we have to keep a watch once night falls, and I don't want you falling asleep. Don't think just cause you can't walk properly I'm gonna give you a break."

She grinned, "Yes, sir." And pulled her bowl toward her.


	2. R2 Prologue

Okay, so here's a quick note to ward off your confusion. Like I said in the summary, this story follows two of the infinite possible realities. This is remembering that, according to some theories, a new reality is created for every possible outcome in every decision or event that occurs. So, here's the second reality I'll be following. It starts off just after Jack's met up with Sam in the jungle, like he did back last chapter, in Reality 1 (R1).

Questions? Don't hesitate to ask.

* * *

R2

"Good," said Jack. "I'll come with you."

Sam sighed slightly, well enough trained to keep it hidden. Truthfully, she'd been enjoying herself, out all alone in the jungle. While she was never entirely adverse to his company – well, maybe _never_ was too strong a word. While she wasn't _often_ adverse to his company, there certainly were times she'd rather just be alone. This was one of them. She'd been happy, and peaceful, working in solitude and listening to the noises of the forest. Insects seemed to be everywhere on this planet, and in every variety. She was no fan of bugs, but from a distance and when they were singing as prettily as they were, she could appreciate them.

She glanced over at Jack. He had his eyes on the path, picking his way over the leaves and vines with the careless attention she'd come to recognize as his trademark. "You really don't have anything to do here, do you, sir?" she inquired, smiling slightly.

He jumped a bit and glanced around at the changing scenery. "Here specifically?" They'd come out onto some sort of rocky plateau, probably a small cliff. "Or here as in on this planet?"

"Does it make a difference?"

"No," he shrugged, looking over at her briefly. "And… no."

She smiled and set her eyes back on the trail. "I didn't think so," she said, teasing lightly.

"Hey," he said, stopping. She stopped too, amused, and turned back. "What's that supposed to mean?" he called.

With a conscious effort, she smoothed the smile off her face. He glowered back at her, seeming to be trying to work something out. "You know," he said, meandering towards the edge of the outcropping. She watched him with vague alarm, wondering what he had in mind. "I bet I know something you don't."

Despite herself, she grinned, eyebrows shooting up. "What's that, sir?"

"Where P90s are made," he said, confident.

She blinked. Where had _that_ come from? She'd been expecting something wiseass, maybe a crack at Jaffa humour or maybe even an attempt at obscure science, if he was feeling particularly brave. But, he'd gotten her. On her gun.

How embarrassing.

So, she bluffed. "Italy," she said, trying to imbue her voice with as much confidence as he had.

He snorted. "Belgium."

He also seemed inclined to gloat about it. Grinning, he stepped jauntily towards her, giving her a light shove towards the edge of the cliff as he passed. "Gotcha," he quipped as she staggered, nearly toppling off. She caught a glimpse of cloudy water below as she regained her balance and mentally shook a fist at him. Infuriating man…

"Do you know, sir," she began, trotting a bit to catch up with him, "you really are a bit of a child sometimes. With all due respect."

"Yeah," he laughed, "Real respectful there, Carter." He shook his head. "C'mon. Let's get back to base. I'm starving."

Upon arrival, there was some kafuffling due to someone or other not having shown up for kitchen duty. Dinner, as it turned out, was only half ready. The colonel was not amused.

Summoning all her patience and diplomatic ability, Carter slipped between the bickering men and declared – repetitively, with increasing degrees of volume – that she would do it, provided someone would take her samples to Lab 2 for analysis. This earned her several claps on the back and a surprised but rather proud glance from O'Neill. "Didn't know you cooked, Carter," he remarked, perching on the top step of a footladder by the side while she set about helping the other scientist preparing food.

"I'm not that bad, sir," she said, "but really, it's pea soup. What can you do to pea soup?"

"What indeed," he grumbled. "I'm _hungry_, Carter. Isn't there any meat?"

She grinned a bit. "It's not that bad, sir. It's good for you. And besides, Younge's a great cook. He'll make up for me, right, Younge?"

"Uh," the young man smiled a bit uncertainly, "Yes, ma'am."

She patted him on the shoulder, "Exactly. See, sir?" she grinned at him. "It'll be great."

Jack looked unappeased. "Where's the meat?"

* * *

The following morning rolled around despicably early, as usual. Tempted to just fall back to sleep, Sam turned over on her bunk, facing the wall and damning the alarm clock. Apparently, duty called. But for what? She wasn't of any particular use here.

She suspected Jack was having an even harder time of it. She enjoyed being out in the peaceful jungle, gathering samples, but he'd never had any patience for that sort of thing. He'd mentioned something to her about his Gameboy being broken, no doubt trying to hint at her to fix it. She'd have a look eventually, she figured. Maybe today.

Or, she thought, rolling over again and squinting into the light streaming in through the slatted windows, maybe tomorrow. It was an odd light; reddish, almost like sunset. That made sense, she supposed – the longer and uneven day-night cycle made a daylong sunset quite possible. And, if she thought about it, now was just about the right time for the sun to be going down. So, maybe she'd have a look at that Gameboy once it was dark.

Then again, they'd probably be even busier with sample gathering during the night. That _was_ why they were here, after all, to study how the plants could adapt to having such a discrepancy in their light exposure. She sighed lightly and let her eyes slide closed again. It could be kinda fun, crawling about in the jungle in the dark…

"Carter!"

The sharp bark jolted her awake. She shot upright, smacking her head into the bottom of Dawson's bunk above her. She fell back down, one hand on her forehead, and cracked an eye open, smothering a moan. "Sir?"

"What do you think this is," he demanded, looming over her, shadowed by the window's light, "a tropical resort? Get up!"

She blinked once, slower than usual to register what he was saying. "What time is it?" she asked, sitting up with more care this time and swinging her legs off the side of the bed.

"Eight thirty, Carter!" Jack exclaimed. "C'mon, get a move on."

She hopped to her feet. "Sorry, sir," she offered sincerely, snatching up her shower bag from beneath her bunk. "I must've fallen back to sleep."

He grunted, eyes flicking downwards. She followed his gaze. As was her off-world custom, she'd slept in a regulation tank top and shorts, but being woken like this by her CO was decidedly not the usual. Normally, she was the first up, or Teal'c, and it wasn't as if he'd ever even notice what she was wearing. Standing here, in front of Jack, technically dressed perfectly decently, she felt more than a little exposed.

She felt herself flush slightly and ran her hands over her arms, more for the excuse to cover her chest than to ease any real chill. "Right," she said awkwardly. "I'll just—"

He sidestepped to let her pass in the same direction she was headed. Nearly colliding with him, she drew back and tried again, giving a sheepish little grin and gesturing towards the entrance to the shower room with her bag. "Yeah. Uh," he cleared his throat, "Right. See you later, Carter."

She paused at the entrance to the change room, bare feet cold on the metal floor. "Um, yes, sir."

And then he was gone, and she was out of sight, and all the awkwardness of the moment dissipated as the hot water cascaded down over her shoulders. Absently, she ran her hands over her body, resting a moment longer on her hips. She couldn't deny the lingering want in the pit of her belly, stirred by the near-contact and age old darkness in his eyes as he'd looked her over. She was well familiar with the feeling; there was no point pushing it away and pretending it didn't exist.

Soap in one hand, she passed it over her neck, down from one shoulder, over a breast and then the gentle swell of her abdomen, the smooth ridges of the muscles buried beneath. Down to her feet and then back up, she paused at the jointure of her legs, slick fingers dangerously close. She could, if she wanted to. She was already late for the day's work. Besides, she was just an add-on here, superfluous. It was an unusual feeling, being superfluous, and came with certain freedoms. But this, in a cramped, prefab shower stall, just seemed wrong.

With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the cool wall and her hand moved on, up over her stomach and the second breast, finishing where she'd begun, on the back of her neck. What _would _it be like, to feel Jack's hands on her? He'd be gentle; she could tell. He was a surprisingly gentle man, for all his rough exterior. Her fingers grazed over her throat, up beneath her chin and then down to her collarbone. Would he be slow, sensual? Her eyes slipped closed.

Jerking herself back to the present, she forced her eyes open and shut the water off. No sense moping around here, fantasizing about something that was never, at least not in any foreseeable future, going to happen. It wasn't like that thought was going to stop her from wanting him, she reflected idly as she dried herself off, but, somewhere in the back of her mind, it did remind her that she had to accept that wanting him was all she could ever do.

She passed by the kitchen on her way out to the yard and stopped to poke her head in. It was empty, the steel counters cleared and wiped down. Regretfully, she continued on and resigned herself to waiting until lunch.

Outside, she was greeted with the same odd light she'd seen through the bunkroom window. The sky was tinged orange and red, the sun out of sight behind the tall trees. Another thirty hours or so until it actually went down, she mused vaguely, heading towards Jenson, the outpost leader, who was bending over a potted sample.

"Hey, Tony," she greeted him cheerfully.

He looked up. "Major," he smiled. "Have a good sleep in?"

She pinked, running a hand over her still-wet hair. "Sorry about that. I must've fallen back to sleep… I don't usually."

He laughed. "No, don't worry about it. It's not like we have anything pressing to do."

She nodded, her grin still a bit guilty. "Anything I can help with?"

She ended up doing the same thing as yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that: sample gathering. It was a slightly different area than before, though, further out from the camp, almost near where Daniel was supposed to be poking about. But, knowing him, he'd be nowhere near where he was supposed to be, and she wouldn't see him till supper that night.

By lunch, she was hot, tired, very hungry, and more than a little cranky as she trudged back to the outpost. She hadn't had much success in finding new species to bring back, and the bugs had been unusually annoying, landing and tickling any exposed skin. She was sweaty, normal for the humid heat, and this time covered in not only smears of soil, but of insect innards. Not a pleasant sight. Also not a pleasant smell. She longed for another shower.

She made do with scrubbing her hands and arms before sitting down to lunch. Carey had been on kitchen duty, and was currently in the process of handing out the sandwiches to the waiting group, seated around the long table. Sam gave the young lieutenant a smile as she passed her a turkey-and-mustard on brown bread. The food in an outpost like this was never good, but somehow the team's spirits were perky enough that no one seemed to mind.

Well, except Jack. But for now, Sam noted, glancing over at him, he seemed content enough. It was a meat sandwich.

The others were mostly present and reasonably cheery. The little colony totalled twelve, including both SG teams. Teal'c was still offsite, busy working with the techs back in Cheyenne Mountain, bringing their number down to eleven. Daniel was out wandering, looking for civilization, and neither Larson nor Neil—both civilians—had deemed it necessary to return for the midday meal. That left eight: herself, Jack, Higgs, Carey, Dawson, and Cullins, and then the scientists not part of any SG team: Jenson, and Younge.

They were halfway through eating when Daniel burst in, grubby and slightly out of breath. "Um, guys," he said, pointing over his shoulder, "You _are _aware the Gate's not working, right?"

The troupe of them dutifully abandoned lunch and followed him out to the Gate, which was, indeed, not working. At all. Irked, Sam hit another key on the dialer, to no response. None, nothing, nada… Jack's voice sang out in her head, brightly listing every negative he knew. She furrowed her brow, part to clear her mind and part out of frustration, and crouched down, peering at the underside of the device to check for damage.

"I don't understand it, sir," she admitted, straightening. "There don't seem to be any external indications of what happened. I can only guess that either the power somehow got cut, or something's happened to the region of subspace it's trying to access."

"Something like what?" Jack asked, squinting at her and swatting at a fly on his arm. "Giant subspace bugs?"

She shrugged a bit, helpless. "Without any instruments, I can't know for sure, sir." She paused. "We didn't do anything to it, though. If we wait, it may come back by itself."

"When?"

She winced, hating not having an answer. "That's anyone's guess, sir."

* * *

If you're now very confused about why I'm sort of repeating a chapter, see note at top of page. :)


	3. R1 Chapter 1

R1

It was not a fact widely known, but Jack O'Neill could, on occasion, appreciate a morning. There was something exceedingly satisfying about being up before everyone else, wandering the familiarly noisy places when they were silent. Streets without cars, parks without kids… he'd taken quite a liking to going for walks at an hour others might call ungodly.

He wondered vaguely if it might be a sign of senility.

Here, though, on P49-whatever it was, there weren't really any mornings. Or at least, he'd yet to see one. 0500 his time was the equivalent of about 1900 in an immortal's day, a seemingly never ending barrage of daylight – or now, sunset. The sun was just below the tops of the trees, visible only in patches, and the sky was a steady orange. Thirty-four hours 'til dark, Carter had said, though that had been a while ago… he paused, debating counting. Deciding accuracy wasn't, for the moment, worthy of the effort, he made a rough guess of somewhere around twenty-eight hours. He could ask her when she got up. For now, he was going to enjoy his walk, and neither science nor math was going to impinge.

He shifted his gun, glancing around at the surrounding jungle. No movement. Didn't mean there was nothing out there…

Pulling a bit of a face, he gave in and counted. Twenty-seven hours. He'd been close. Not bad for a guess.

"Colonel."

Jack turned. Carter was coming up behind him, dressed in her normal casual uniformity. Her hair was wet, and she was smiling. "Carter," he greeted her pleasantly. "You're up early."

"So are you, sir," she returned, falling into step beside him.

"Oh," he said, "just enjoying the morning air." He paused, glancing up at the orange sky. "As it were." She nodded, still smiling. What had her so cheerful? Didn't she know they were facing imminent danger? "How's the leg? The doc got you on painkillers or something?"

She laughed. "It's doing fine, sir," she assured him. "I heard you get up and thought I'd join you." She looked up at him quickly, radiant smile fading slightly. "I hope you don't mind."

"Course not, Carter," he said crisply. "You know how I love having someone vastly smarter than me around."

Somehow, she looked only half-reassured by this response.

"No, Carter," he clarified, stopping. "I don't mind." Shaking his head, he continued on, leaving her staring after him with that delightful little frown of amused confusion on her face.

A few steps later, she was back at his side, her smile back on her face. Back the way it should be, he thought absently.

They returned to the outpost as the rest of the group were just sitting down to breakfast. Daniel nodded a good morning on his way past with his tray, his nose already buried in a book. The others were still arriving, and the only one to give them a second glance was Carey. She looked at Sam with what might've been a wink, and though Jack's attention shot immediately to his companion for her reaction, she was already turning away from him towards the serving counter. Frowning, he followed suit.

After breakfast, they trouped out to the main yard. Higgs, holding a pencil and clipboard, was at the centre of their clump, and they sketched out a rough idea of what they wanted for a defence perimeter. The creatures wouldn't be too much of a threat, they thought. Floodlights around the edges of the camp should be enough to repel them, and just in case, they would set up two guns, one at each end of the compound. That done, the scientists wandered off to get in a bit of last minute sample-gathering, and the two SG teams moved off to find what they'd need.

It was Dawson, from SG-16, who came back with the news. "Colonel," he said, blunt as always, "the Gate's not working."

Jack spun. "Excuse me?"

"It's just… not working," Dawson repeated. "I tried to send through for the stationary guns, but I couldn't get any sort of response."

Jack didn't have to think twice. "Where's Carter?"

Carter was, it turned out, changing. Cullins had accidentally overturned a rack of potted samples while freeing the cord for the floodlight, and the soppy load had landed on Carter, who was at present not at all a happy camper. Being intruded upon, apparently, while covered by nothing but mud and panties, did not help matters. Neither did telling her that the Stargate was broken, and that she'd have to fix it.

She didn't grumble. She didn't rant. She didn't even protest, other than a request for thirty seconds to put some clothes on. She did, however, glare. Cullins wisely hung back, and she stalked ahead of the pack, silent and still covered in mud, despite the change of clothes. Jack resisted the temptation to comment on the small, leafed stem she had protruding from her hair.

Her frustration changed vents as she milled about the Gate, inspecting it. "I don't get it, sir," she said at last, giving one of the DHD's keys another push. "There's just… nothing. The only explanation I can think of is either that something's happened to subspace, or… the power's been cut." She looked around at the several faces assembled. "We didn't do anything to it, did we?"

Jack peered at Higgs. "Did you?"

The SG-16 commander bristled. "No, of course not."

Sam glanced between the two. "Well, sirs," she interjected, verbally stepping between them, "if we didn't cause it, I don't see any reason that it shouldn't fix itself."

"And if it doesn't?"

"There isn't anything I can do."

Jack squinted at her. _Well that's helpful. Genius must be overrated. _"Did you know you have a plant in your hair?"

She glared. And when they got back to camp, she disappeared into the building to shower and didn't appear again until lunch. He set his plate down with a deliberate clatter next to hers. "I see you got it out," he said brightly, making a small show of peering at her head.

She spared him a raised eyebrow. He sighed and sat down. "Have you been avoiding me, Carter?" he asked around a bite of sandwich.

She blinked at him, and when she spoke, she was surprisingly cheerful. "I've been helping reinforce the doors, sir," she said. "I've been inside all morning."

"Oh." He nudged a grape with one finger. "That… would explain it."

She chuckled. "What have you been working on, sir?"

"Flood lights," he replied. "Outside."

"How are they coming?" she inquired, sipping her apple juice.

"Oh, good," he said ambiguously. "How many doors have you got done?"

She looked up at him over the rim of her glass. "There ­_are_ only three, sir."

He opened his mouth to reply, pausing. "Right."

It was several more bites before either of them spoke again. "What's your opinion on the creatures, Carter?"

"My opinion?" she looked up, mildly surprised. "Well, sir… I don't really know. I'd say they're dangerous, that's for sure, but I don't know if we have to be _too_ worried. I mean, my leg's fine. The main problem is the sedative in their bites. It could make retreating a lot harder."

Jack nodded. While it could be mildly unnerving at times, he liked it when he was of the same opinion as Carter. "I'll take the first watch, starting around 1900 tonight."

"But, sir," she began to protest, "I should—"

"I want you to get some sleep," he interrupted. "You're cranky enough already."

"Cranky?" she echoed, blinking once. "I'm not cranky, sir. When was I cranky?"

He shrugged evasively.

She shook her head, smiling a bit. "Is this about the accident with Cullins? _You_ try having a load of plants dumped on you, sir. Stinging plants, too!"

"Okay," he agreed, "Fine. I would be damn cranky. I assume you managed to get all the… stingers off you?"

"Pretty much," she nodded. "There's a bit of it left on the back of my neck…" Pensively, she ran a hand down from the base of her skull and beneath her collar. Jack's eyes followed it, stuck like glue. "Just a small rash," she confirmed. "I'll put some cream on it later if it's still there."

Jack swallowed, and took another bite of his sandwich.

* * *

The first watch was remarkably silent. With the others inside enjoying a bit of downtime, however they chose to do that, Jack, Daniel, and Carey were outside, slouched on the kitchen chairs they'd brought out. The sun was well below the tree tops by now, far past the pleasant long-shadow stage and into the buggy half-light of a painfully long evening. Feet up on a nearby box, Jack swatted at a small flying insect by his head.

"Daniel," he said into his radio.

"_Jack," _came the reply.

"We didn't bring any bug spray with us, did we?"

"_Um, no, I don't think we did."_

Jack's expression twitched in lazy irritation. "Of course we didn't." He let his hand fall back onto his gun, looking absently up at the grey-pink sky. Muffled and distorted by the layers of the outpost's corrugated metal walls, the sounds of an action flick filtered through to his ears. "Listen to them," he muttered to himself, "watching movies. Kids these days…"

He scanned over the edges of the jungle. No movement. It was getting awfully dark out there, though. Jack yawned.

Time crawled by. He would've killed for some real company, Teal'c for example, but everyone was either busy having fun, sleeping, or on watch on the other side of the complex. He hummed. Aimlessly at first, just a tune—if it could be called that—as it floated through his mind, and then more purposefully, he began to make his way through the Simpsons' theme.

There was a tap behind him. He turned, startled, his feet tumbling from their perch. "Sir?"

"Carter?"

That was definitely Carter's voice, but from where? "I'm at the window, sir," she informed him, a slightly long-suffering note in her voice.

His gaze shifted to the slatted window, open to the cooling air and unremarkable with the lights within off. "Carter?" he repeated.

"Um, the others are…" she paused, and the faint sound of fabric rustling filtered through to him. She whispered something to someone else, then turned back to the window. "Well, sir, the others are trying to sleep, and these walls let sound through pretty clearly…" She cleared her throat. "We were wondering if you could, uh… _hum_ a little quieter. Sir."

"Carter. Just close the window."

There was another pause. "Yes, sir." And then the slats spun shut. Jack turned back around in his chair, feet going back up on the box. He tapped his fingers on his gun, taking a moment to find himself in his song again.

He'd just started up the first notes when a faint but distinctive sound reached him. He broke off, listening. It was coming from within the outpost, that was for sure. It was humming, that was for sure. Carter's characteristically out-of-tune contribution was in there, that was for sure. Boy, was she gonna get it. That was for sure.

And when the trees exploded into a burst of movement and Jack opened fire without a second thought, the people within the outpost took a moment longer than usual to respond. That was for sure.

* * *

"So what're we gonna do?"

Everyone was thinking it. Cullins just happened to be the first to voice it.

"I don't see that there's much we _can_ do," Higgs said after a moment. "I mean, we can put the floodlights on and keep a guard, but it's not like we can go out hunting these things. The rest of us should try to get a bit more sleep."

"He's right," Jenson agreed. "They're going to get more common the later it gets. We should take advantage of the time we've got now."

Jack looked around at the assembled faces. "Sure. We'll keep the same watch until midnight. Everyone else, bed."

They dispersed with various murmurs of 'yes, sir'. Jack adjusted his gun, heading back for his seat. Daniel caught up to him. "Jack."

"Daniel," Jack echoed, stopping.

"I was thinking. A lot of those scientists don't know a whole lot about gun-handling. If this is going to get worse, it might be a good idea to give them a refresher course."

Jack eyeballed him. "Is this some backhanded way of telling me you've been skipping your marksmanship classes again?"

Daniel shrugged. "Just saying."

Jack chuckled, breaking off to retake his position on watch. "See you at midnight, Dannyboy."


	4. R2 Chapter 1

Not gonna lie, guys. I'm really excited about this chapter. (grin)

* * *

R2

Despite the concern over the Gate, the rest of their day was remarkably normal. Being the only astrophysicist present, Carter was granted leave from sample-gathering to think. She managed to angle her way into Lab 3, a food store room and the only truly air conditioned room in the complex, and worked through some calculations on volumes of subspace disturbances necessary to disable a Stargate. Her calculator, borrowed by Larson that morning to add up growth rates, posed a momentary problem with its absence, and she'd had to leave her cool haven to find it again. That done, she'd returned to work uninterrupted for nearly an hour before her laptop, finally deciding it had had quite enough of the humidity, spluttered and quit.

This, naturally, put something of a wedge in her idea of making a computer model, and she was left with sketching her best rendition of it out on paper while the computer dried out, propped up in front of the cooling unit's air vents. Higgs dropped in to see how she was doing, and left soon after, having been shown the admittedly-terrible diagrams and probably wondering how in hell she'd ever gotten this job. Though, that opinion might also have been in part due to the way his mouth had twitched upon seeing the stack of empty sample racks and books holding her laptop up to the vent.

She'd sighed a bit and shaken it off, looking over her sketches with a critical eye. What if it wasn't a subspace problem? Had the power somehow been cut? She frowned slightly, casting a wistful look at her computer. How much power would a Gate have to lose to stop working all together? It would have to be at least… she paused, tapping at her calculator. At least seven percent. That represented nearly five kilowatts – more than they could supply with any of the base's solar batteries.

Though, she reasoned, if it was just a power problem, an incoming wormhole would still be able to open. So, if the next contact time came and went without a word from the SGC, she could rule out, with a decent amount of certainty, a power shortage.

She sighed again, pushing her damp hair off her forehead. Despite the air conditioning, it was hot. It was _always_ hot. As assignments went, this planet wasn't a bad one – quiet, easy, and laidback – but it certainly wasn't without its drawbacks. She wasn't heading off to Cuba with any upcoming leave she might have, that was for sure. Maybe she'd go somewhere in Canada, somewhere cold. Or Alaska – now there was a thought. She could probably get a free bunk in one of the Air Force's bases up north… Her lips quirked as she envisioned trying to convince Hammond that whale-watching was research. Astrophysical research…

The door closing startled her out of her thoughts. "Colonel," she greeted her visitor, straightening in her seat. "I didn't hear you come in."

He eyed her a bit critically. "I noticed. It's supper, Carter."

Something in his voice told her that wasn't the first time he'd said it, either.

"Right," she said, shuffling her papers into a pile. "Yes, sir. I'll be right there. Thanks for coming to get me."

He shrugged. "Wouldn't want you starving that brain of yours," he said casually as she hastily grabbed the small stack and tucked it into one hand. A pencil in the other, she followed him out the door. "We need it to get the Gate up again. While the idea of being stuck here forever is tempting, I think I'll have to pass."

"I know what you mean, sir," she agreed emphatically.

They could hear the kitchen from a good distance down the hall. "Sounds like a crowd," O'Neill remarked. "Night falling. What an excitement."

They rounded the corner and stepped inside, greeted with an unusually full mess hall. Carter counted automatically: eight, ten including themselves. Who was missing? With half the faces turned away and regulation haircuts, it was hard to tell. She shrugged, dismissing the issue, and helped herself to a serving of mashed potatoes and pork.

Spirits were high. The sun was nearly down and the jungle was into a sort of prolonged dusk, promising night and hopefully respite from the heat. The bugs had begun to dissipate after eighteen thirty, and the coming four days of night seemed like a haven, albeit a rather forced one. They weren't short of supplies, though, and their batteries had accumulated more than enough charge during the day to keep their systems going. Carter felt the irritation of her afternoon's fruitless work begin to fade.

They moved onto the standard dessert of jello or pudding around twenty hundred hours. Carter was on her way back from depositing her empty tray on the counter when Jenson spoke up. "Frank," he said, raising his voice slightly to be heard above the other conversations. "Have you seen Shauna?"

Larson shook his head. "Maybe she went off to bed already."

"Weren't you out gathering with her?" Carter asked, picking up another tray – the colonel's; he'd already gotten his hands on a chocolate pudding and the empty dishes were long forgotten. She returned it to the counter, transferring its plate and cup to hers and then stacking them.

"We split off after a while," Larson said. "She wanted to check out some vines growing near the pond. She didn't check in?"

Jenson shook his head.

Frank frowned a bit. "That's odd. We didn't come back for lunch either – she must be starving. It's not like her to miss meals."

"Has anyone tried radioing her?" Sam asked around a mouthful of blue jello.

"We kept contact for a while after we split," Larson said. "But that was around two o'clock or so. I mean, we were just chatting. It didn't really seem important to keep it up."

Sam set her jello down, fishing in her pocket for her radio. "I must've left it in the lab. Anyone else have their radio with them?"

Carey, listening in on the conversation with half an ear, held hers out. Sam took it. "Neil," she said, "This is Carter. Where are you?" She took her finger off the transmit button and waited a moment. There was no response. "Shauna?" she tried again. "It's Carter. Please respond."

Nothing.

By this time, the mess had gone silent. Everyone was listening.

"Has anyone seen Neil?" Jenson asked. "She hasn't checked back in." No one replied. "I'm going to go out looking for her. Who else is coming?"

"I'll go," Larson volunteered.

Colonel O'Neill eyed the two scientists. "Carter, go with them. Stay in radio contact, and be back within the hour."

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

The three of them put their remaining dishes aside and headed for the exit. "And Carter?"

She stopped, turning back.

"Take your gun," he instructed. "Just in case."

"Yes, sir."

After a quick stop at the base's small armoury for flashlights and Carter's P90, and another quick stop at the washroom for an after-dinner pee, they were on the move. The sky was still light, coloured a dull sort of purple Sam guessed was what people meant when they said 'lilac grey'. Beneath the jungle canopy, though, very little sunlight remained. All three group members held their flashlights aloft, two trained on the ground to illuminate obstacles and the third pointing ahead, scanning back and forth for any sign of the missing botanist.

"Neil?" Carter tried again into her radio. Still, no response. "Colonel?"

"_I read you, Carter."_

"Good," she said. "Just checking, sir. I thought something might have been interfering with our radios, but it seems to be working fine."

"Something like what?" Jenson asked.

Carter shrugged slightly. "The change in the angle of the sun could be provoking some sort of electrical disturbance in the upper atmosphere. It might be enough to disrupt some radio frequencies. But you're reading me fine, sir?"

"_Clear as day."_

"Which rules that out," she said.

"_Maybe Neil's radio's broken,"_ the colonel suggested.

"Could be, sir," she acknowledged.

"Here," Larson spoke up. "This was where she wanted to check out those vines."

They had come out onto what looked like the same rocky outcropping Carter and Jack had walked across the day before. It was brighter here, the break in the trees allowing enough dusky half-light to make their flashlights unnecessary. They spread out, combing the ground and surroundings for traces of Shauna. Nothing.

Sam hopped down the rocks to the small beach beside the pond. She paused, eyes on the sand. Were those footprints? She crouched, flicking her flashlight back on. Yes, definitely footprints. There – that looked like a boot. But the others?

She looked closely at one. It was small and vaguely triangular, with darker sand piled atop the surface white, as if something had sunk deep and then been withdrawn. _Odd_, she thought, tracing the inside of it with a finger. What sort of foot made a print like this?

She didn't know, but there were a lot of them.

She had a _very_ bad feeling about it.

The others, when she called them over, were of a similar opinion. Jenson expressed a desire to show the rest of the outpost, and Larson produced a camera from a pocket and took a picture, nearly blinding all three of them with the flash.

Still blinking away the lights in her eyes, Sam stood, peering around at the rest of their surroundings while the two biologists examined the prints. "Neil!" she called. No response.

She looked back down at the boot prints. They led, in a meandering line, towards the trees on the other side of the beach. Carter picked her way around the crouching scientists and followed the trail. Inside the woods again, she turned her flashlight back on, keeping it on the ground. She was no tracker, but she did have a rudimentary understanding of the basics. There were a few indents in the groundcover, here and there even a distinctly boot-shaped impression in mud. She walked carefully, not wanting to miss anything.

Somewhere over to her left, leaves rustled. She froze, light quickly scanning over the area. "Neil?" she questioned. There was no answer. She stepped towards the spot, stomach crawling. Those prints… she _knew_ she wasn't alone out here anymore, but what else was there? Was it big? Was it dangerous? Would it eat her? Had it eaten Shauna? She took a deep breath, settling her racing heart and mind. "Neil?"

The leaves rustled again. Her breath caught. She set her foot down carefully, hands slowly slipping her flashlight into her pocket in favour of her gun. She brought it up to her shoulder, eyes wide and flitting back and forth. Where was it? _What_ was it?

She turned the light on.

The leaves before her erupted into movement. She jerked back automatically, her heel catching on a root. She fell, landing on her rump and the one hand she'd flung out to save herself. With neither the time nor the frame of mind to wince, she scrambled back to her feet, bringing the light back up. The brush was moving, swaying in the echoes of whatever had been there.

"Jenson, Larson," she gasped in her radio, working to regain her composure. "There's something here. You seen anything?"

"_No,"_ came the reply. Larson's voice. _"Where are you? Jenson went after you but I guess he hasn't found you yet. Oh, wait, I hear movement."_ The voice went a little fainter, probably moving away from the microphone. _"Tony? That you?"_ It came back, clear again. _"Where're you, major? Is that you in the bushes?"_

Sam glanced around. "I'm not moving, Frank."

"_Then what…"_ There was a pause. Larson's voice, when it came again, was distant. _"What the… whoa. Whoa there. Easy… Whoa—ah! Ah! Major!"_

Carter could hear his voice in the air now, not just over the radio. He was screaming. She didn't hesitate.

She pounded through the jungle, gun at the ready, following his voice. "Major Carter! Oh god—" She burst out into the clearing. It was empty.

"Larson!" she yelled, spinning around, the light raking a path through the humid air. "Larson? Frank!"

There was no answer. She was left alone, in eerie silence. The insects were gone, there were no birds – there weren't supposed to be any animals here, let alone predators. Her breathing was loud in her ears, the only sound.

A branch cracked. She spun, gun up. Leaves rustled—there were footsteps—human footsteps? Her feet shifted on the sand, ready to either open fire or flee. _Oh god_—Larson's voice echoed in her mind.

Jenson shot out of the trees. She only got halfway through a sigh of relief before his shout knocked her back into high gear. "_Run!_"

"Larson—" she began to protest.

"_Dead_," Jenson cut her off. "Now run!"

She did.

"Run!" he shouted again, from the sounds of things right on her heels. "Faster!"

She was going as fast as she could. There were no paths here – it was a part of the jungle they hadn't done much work in. Leaves and branches caught at them, and vines posed dangerous obstacles, slowing their progress. She vaulted over a fallen tree, barely managing to keep her balance as her boots skidded in the mud on the other side. There—a path. She careened around the turn, immediately picking up speed now that she was in the clear. Almost at the base – in her P90's erratic beam, she caught a glimpse of a familiar tree branch. A familiar rock. A familiar bend in the path, and then, finally—

The outpost.

She managed to grab her radio from her vest, bringing it to her mouth as she sprinted across the yard. "Sir! Open the door! _Now!_"

He must've heard the urgency in her voice, because the door opened before she got to it – less than five seconds after she'd given the call. She shot through it, mud-covered boots slipping on the metal floor. She went down hard, landing on her side as she twisted to see if Jenson had made it back with her. He had, managing to stop himself by grabbing at the doorframe to the kitchen. "Close it!" he yelled. Jack did.

Stunned – by both the impact and the sudden turn of events – and thoroughly winded, Sam took a moment before even attempting to rise. She was gasping for air, her lungs emptied by the fall and her heart pounding a mile a minute. She managed to roll onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, quite literally seeing spots.

The colonel's face protruded unexpectedly into her field of view. "Carter," he said, his voice seeming remarkably calm. "Hey. You okay?"

She blinked once, hard, and pushed herself up. Finally half-upright, she squinted around. It was awfully bright in here… "Yes, sir," she said at last. "I'm fine."

"Okay," he said, bending down to hook his arms under hers. "Let's get you up…"

She managed to stand, albeit a bit unsteadily, and looked around at the assembling faces. Jenson was still by the door, white as a sheet and gasping for breath. Higgs elbowed his way to the front. "What happened out there, major? Where're Larson and Neil?"

Carter opened her mouth and found her voice lacking. She closed it, cleared her throat, and tried again, breathing deeply to slow her racing heart. "I… don't know," she said. "We have to go back—"

"They're dead."

Everyone's attention shot to Jenson. The other civilians were wide-eyed, already looking panicky.

"You don't know that," Carter said firmly, managing at last to get all of herself back in control. The adrenaline was fading somewhat, and her breathing was slowing.

"I saw it." Jenson's voice was quiet but steady. His eyes were on the floor.

"Saw what?" Jack asked, impatient.

"There's some sort of creature—" Sam began, but Jenson cut her off.

"A monster."

The scientists shifted uneasily and Carter looked hard at him. What was he trying to do, scare them? Why bother?

"Horrible," he continued, still staring at the floor. "I've never seen anything like it. It had Larson when I saw it."

"What about Neil?" Higgs asked.

Jenson unclenched one fist, holding out a scrap of black fabric. "It's part of her shirt. I found it on a low branch. She must've been running pretty fast to rip it like that." He met their eyes at last. "Whatever got Frank got her too."


	5. R1 Chapter 2

R1

Midnight rolled around without another peep, either from inside the base or out of it, and the first watch ended on a remarkably normal note. They woke the others, all of them, and Jack, following Daniel's advice, organised their jobs. Carter, Higgs, and Carey were to run a refresher course in gun handling, while the watch would consist of Dawson, Younge, and himself, all military and all confident in their marksmanship.

The makeshift range would be out in the main yard, the largest open space available. Jack set up his chair nearby, keeping half an eye on their progress while the other stayed on the jungle. The floodlights they'd mounted atop the outpost cast them in a harsh light, cutting sharp shadows on the ground and washing the scenery in white. Not ideal for target practice, but they weren't about to mess with their security blanket just so the civilians could have perfect conditions. Unrealistic conditions, too, Jack noted. If they were going to need the skills they were relearning, it would be during the night. Visibility was going to be low.

He shifted a bit, glancing back at the range. Carter was holding up a small tarp while Carey scurried about, fetching things to keep it up. After a moment's consideration of the original piled chairs and tent poles, and some input from one of the scientists, they simplified their design to two lines of string, one on top and the other below, running from the outpost roof to the closest tree. Higgs smacked a large Biohazard sticker in the centre of the tarp, then joined the others, standing back to appraise their contraption.

It wasn't bad, really. Jack felt the snigger he'd suppressed upon seeing their first attempt fade, and he turned back to watching the jungle… until the first shot went off.

It splintered a chunk of bark off one of the tree's he'd been staring at. Somewhere in the dark region between horrified and highly amused, Jack spun in his chair. "Who shot that?"

Tentatively, Larson's hand went up. "I did, sir," he admitted.

Jack looked hard at him. "Course you did." His eyes slid to his second. "Carter, why don't you give him special _attention_?"

Carter, from what he could make out of her face, was struggling not to laugh. "Yes, sir," she nodded. Yes, definitely trying not to laugh.

With vague interest, he watched as the three officers divided themselves up among the five scientists. Daniel and Cullins, SG-16's biologist/medical doctor, seemed to be faring the best, though Jenson, thankfully, as the outpost leader, was holding his ground. Neil was quite possibly worse than Larson, cleanly missing the target every time, even with Carey standing behind her, holding her arms straight.

Oh—Jack gave a little mental cheer. Neil had hit the target. She looked quite surprised with herself, and peered down curiously at her P90. Carey quickly turned the gun's nose back, away from the botanist's foot. Jack gave a snort, which he quickly covered with a fake sneeze as several pairs of indignant eyes turned on him.

When the floodlights flickered once and went out, it came as something of a shock to all of them. For a moment, no one said anything. No one moved. Jack shut his eyes and opened them again, half to clear his vision and half to will the lights back on. They were still off.

"Okay," he said slowly. "Who hit the wrong switch?"

No one volunteered. He was starting to pick out shapes – the sky still had some light left in it. A shadow that, from its uneven-looking hair and generally slighter form, might have been Carter, was poking about by the base of the building. The light on her P90 flicked on. Jack followed her example and turned his own light on the forest, scanning back and forth. Still no movement – good.

Back by the shelter, the Carter shadow was following the wire running from the base's outlet and up the wall. She clambered onto a large crate, and onto the next, stacked atop it. From there, she pulled herself up and onto the roof of the complex, approaching the nearest floodlight.

Carter's voice rang out. "There's no break in the connection. It must be a problem with the power source." She paused. "These running off the solar batteries." She sounded dismayed, or annoyed, or something – whatever it was, it wasn't good.

Eyes turned to Jack, Younge, and Higgs: the floodlight team. "He's the one who plugged them in," Higgs defended, pointing at Jack.

"Hey!" Jack protested.

"Sir. Did you plug them into the solar batteries?" Carter asked tersely.

"I… might have," he said slowly, getting the sinking feeling he was in trouble. "It's not like I had much choice."

Her silhouette pressed a hand to its forehead. "They must've been too much for the batteries to keep up," she said. "We're out of power."

"You mean we don't have a back up?"

"Why bother?" Jenson pointed out, sounding resigned. "Why would we need anything other than solar batteries? We've got fifty-four days of sun."

Jack gaped. "And four days of _night!_"

"Well," Carter said, now back on the ground, "With the air conditioning shut off, the batteries should've been enough to sustain all our systems. The floods must've been too much of a demand. Besides,sir, we didn't think we'd be here for the night," she pointed out. "If the Gate hadn't broken down, we—"

The scream effectively cut off the rest of her sentence. Ten pairs of eyes immediately lost interest in the floodlight debate. Jack was on his feet and moving towards the group, gun up. The others, those of them that knew enough about their weapons, had their lights on and were turning quickly, trying to find whatever had happened. Time seemed slow.

There. Someone was down, being dragged. Shots went off, aimed at the dark, shiny splotch pulling whoever had their leg in its mouth. There was another cry, from behind the target tarp this time, and a thud. Whatever had the man on the ground was still moving, towing him toward the jungle. It shied away from the lights, jerking and drawing a yell from its prey. Jack opened fire. Time sped back up, and everything blurred.

Whether by his shots or someone else's, the creature faltered and crumbled into a large, black heap. Gun still at the ready, Jack hurried forward, turning in circles as he went. No sign of anything else incoming.

The man on the ground was Cullins. He was conscious and gasping, half-curled into a ball and grabbing at his leg. From beyond the tarp, Higg's voice carried back to them. "It's Dawson. He's been shot."

* * *

The entire population of the outpost was inside, either in the infirmary or huddled outside it, peering anxiously through the half-open door. Neil, the only other person present – besides the now-unconscious Cullins – with any medical background, was working frantically with Younge, first-aid grad. The two injured men were laid out on the facility's only beds. Jack watched, feeling useless.

He turned away and surveyed the faces around him. Everyone was tense. They were all friends, more or less – at the very least, they'd worked together for two and a half months and knew each other. Cullins had a wife and kids, and Dawson… well, Jack didn't really know much about Dawson's personal life. There'd been mention of a daughter, he thought.

The others, clustered around the door, were silent. There were a lot of questions – the most pressing clearly _who shot Dawson?_

"I wish Dr. Fraiser was here," someone said, watching Neil and Younge scamper about. A civilian nurse and a barely-trained assistant weren't enough to cope with something like this.

"Nobody anticipated this kind of situation," Jenson pointed out. "What would have been the point of sending the SGC's best doctor?"

"Still wish she was here," Daniel muttered.

There was a commotion from the infirmary. Cullins was flat-lining, and Neil had overturned a cart trying to get to the defibrillator. She stumbled and fell, pushed herself back up, and grabbed the thing off the wall. There were tears on her face. She pushed the remnants of Cullins' shirt out of the way and placed each panel on one side of his chest. She hesitated.

"I don't know where to put them," she said, voice shrill. Younge stared, frozen. Clearly, he didn't know either.

"Anyone?" Jack demanded, looking around at the group. No one volunteered. "Just do it," he barked at Neil.

She jumped, and put the paddles back on his chest. "Clear!" she shouted, trembling, and pushed the button. Cullins seized, and then sagged back onto the table. The heart monitor continued its long whine. Neil sobbed and repositioned the paddles. "Clear!"

Nothing.

"Clear!"

Nothing.

Younge reached a hand out. "Neil…"

"_Clear!_"

Nothing.

"Shauna," Jenson said, stepping into the room.

Neil looked up at him helplessly, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can't," she gasped. "It won't work—" She held up the paddles as if to show that she'd tried. "I'm sorry, I—" She sobbed loudly, dropping the defibrillator and raising shaking hands to her face. "Oh god. I—I—"

Carter stepped neatly around Jenson and took a firm hold of the hysterical nurse's arms. Neil gasped for air, hiccupping a sob. "I'm sorry," she wailed, chest heaving, "Oh _god_—I'm sorry—"

"It's okay," Carter was saying, trying to contain the younger woman's frantic motions. "It's alright. There's nothing you could have done."

"He—" Neil sobbed, "He'd lost t—too much blood—"

"There was nothing you could've done," Carter repeated.

Finally, Neil's eyes focussed, turning toward Carter's face. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's alright," Carter said again, setting her hands on the nurse's shoulders. "It's alright. But now you have to help Dawson. Okay?"

Neil took a deep, ragged breath. "Okay."

* * *

Dawson, too, was okay. He'd been shot in the leg, and had fallen hard – he had a large, swollen bruise blooming over his left eye. He was still unconscious, but the bullet had been removed and the bleeding had stopped. He wouldn't be walking anywhere anytime soon, but he would be fine.

Neil, on the other hand, seemed to have crumbled. She'd retreated into herself, almost literally curled up in the corner. She only moved when she had to do something for Dawson, and barely spoke, even when spoken to. Carter politely but concernedly kept an eye on her.

The other members of SG-16 weren't helping matters, either. Carey was angry. She'd stormed off, vanishing into the dormitory for a long minute, before reemerging, stony-faced. No one dared comment on the swollen rims of her eyes, or the redness of her nose. Higgs… well, Higgs was Higgs. He wasn't ever too enthusiastic about anything, but two of his crew were down, one for good. He wasn't thrilled.

Neither had said anything to Neil since Cullins had died, and it didn't look like the silence was going to break anytime soon.

And then there was the matter of who had shot Dawson. It had to have been one of the scientists – none of the militaries had bad enough aim to have missed so widely. No one had really voiced anything about it yet, but it was only a matter of time. Everyone was thinking it.

One good thing had, however, come out of the whole affair. They'd managed to get a full specimen.

The scientists were busy, and busy, in Jack's mind, was a lot better than anything else at the moment. 'Anything else', he knew, was grief, or anger, or fear, and they didn't have time for any of those. So, for those members of the group who didn't have much to do with dissecting a monster, he did his best to come up with tasks.

They re-reinforced the doors, despite Carter's vaguely irked look. Of course, he knew she'd done a fine job already, but it was something to occupy Carey and Higgs and keep their minds off their downed teammates. Carter and Daniel worked on dreaming up a new power source, and Jack checked their weapons stock.

The others meanwhile, were reasonably content with their new specimen. Larson was the main player in its examination, as the only true biologist remaining, and though Jenson – a botanist – was technically in charge, Larson had the authority on this one. With the base's main lights gone, they'd rigged up a couple flashlights from the ceiling to provide enough illumination to work by. It was a makeshift set up, and when Jack poked his head in to see how things were going, he could've laughed if the whole deal hadn't been so serious.

"How's the… critter?" he asked, venturing toward the operating table.

A masked Larson looked up at him, gloved hands covered in greyish blood. "Very dead," he replied. "It's got at least twenty bullet wounds."

Jack's eyebrow twitched. "Still intact enough to figure out?"

"Sure," Larson said.

"So," said Jack, peering down at the thing. "Whatcha got?"

"Well," began Jenson, "Like we'd thought before, it's definitely amphibious. From what we can tell, its eyesight isn't great, but it has an amazingly accurate sense of smell – rather, taste. It's like a snake in that…" Jack was tuning out, despite his vague interest in hearing about what was out lurking in the jungle. The thing was right in front of him, though, and much too distracting to listen to some botanist's drab explanation.

It was large. Easily as long and the table and considerably wider, it stuck out off the edges. Its head was small, with barely-noticeable eyes near its mouth—and _what a mouth_. Huge, grinning, and full of hand-long needle-like teeth, it reminded Jack more of something from the dark crevasses of Earth's oceans than anything he should be meeting offworld. Grimacing, he looked over the rest of it. Two long, muscular forearms bent backwards from the shoulder, jutting up above the thing's back, then shot down in one long, straight bone. Its haunch was notably smaller, and tapered down into a single leg, of similar structure to a horse's but with a much more sinister sort of look about it. It, too, narrowed down into a single, smooth bone. There was no tail.

Jack grimaced again and stepped back from the table. "Ew," he said emphatically.

Younge nodded. "Yes, sir," he agreed.

"Any estimate on how fast these things can move?" Jack asked, looking evaluatingly at the rear leg. "I mean, it's a tripod right? So what, it just sort of… gallops?" He made a disjointed motion with his hands.

"I guess so," Larson said hesitantly. "I couldn't really say how fast, though. Probably not too slow, if the muscles on those forearms are any indication."

"Right," said Jack, backing towards the door. "I'm gonna go check out our guns."

Their weapons stock was small, but suitable for the original assignment to the base. There were P90s for each SG team member, though two were missing, probably left outside in the confusion of the attack, leaving five total. There were no grenades, no C4, certainly no claymores, and only four flares. There was no shortage of knives, however, and while they were not _exactly_ standard combat issue, they could be useful. Pensively, Jack regarded the small armoury, lit only by his weak flashlight.

Not enough.

He sighed and grabbed his gun, slinging it over one shoulder, and headed out to see what sort of knives he could scavenge from the kitchen.

When he arrived, he found Carter behind the counter, butter knife in hand, making sandwiches. Various cold cuts were laid out nearby, along with bread and what was hopefully mayo. Her notebook, he noticed, wasn't far off, and open to a page with writing scribbled across it.

"Hey, Carter," he greeted her, leaning on the counter.

She turned. "Sir," she smiled. She looked tired. "How's our weapon stock?"

He pursed his lips. "Not so hot," he admitted. "We lost a couple of the P90s outside during the…" He motioned vaguely. "You know." He cleared his throat. "Whatcha doin'?"

She looked down at her hands, busy laying turkey on a slice of bread. "I'm uh," she said, seeming mildly surprised with herself, "I'm making sandwiches, sir."

"I can see that, Carter," he said. "_Why_ are you making sandwiches?"

"Well, sir," she began, "I thought… With all that's happened, I thought people could use something to eat. You know, get their spirits up a bit." She tried a smile. Yep, she was tired.

"And this is more important than finding us a new power source because…?"

She set the half-made sandwich down. "We're not getting anywhere, sir," she admitted. "There just isn't anything else we can use for power. Now that the temperature's dropping, heat panels aren't much use, and without the sun, I can't even rig up something that uses radiation. I think Daniel's still on it, but… Well, I thought I could be of more use here, making sandwiches, and that speaks for itself."

"That is does," he agreed. "So we're stuck without lights." He waved his flashlight about to demonstrate.

"Sorry, sir," she said, then paused, lowering her voice. "There's also the matter of Neil, sir… I've been talking to her a bit. She's starting to blame herself for shooting Dawson. She's convinced it was her. I tried to tell her there's no way to know, that it could've been anyone, but…" Carter sighed slightly. "Add that to the guilt from Cullins, I don't know if she can take it, sir."

"What are you saying, Carter?"

"I don't know. I don't think she'd do anything… drastic, but she can't be replied on for any sort of stability. If things around here start going even more downhill, we're going to have problems."

She sighed again, shaking her head. A drip in the background echoed, and Jack managed to place the faint smell he'd noticed upon entering the room. "Carter," he said slowly, "You know how I hate to sound uninterested in the plight of others, but… is that coffee?"

She looked back up at him, smiling despite herself. "Yes, sir. It's left over from earlier, so it's a little cold, but it's still coffee. Would you like a cup?"

He grinned. "Would I ever."


	6. R2 Chapter 2

R2

The colonel was not pleased. "How come we never saw anything like this before?" he demanded.

Carter was at a loss. She hadn't seen the creature – she didn't have anything to use as a basis for any sort of hypothesis.

"It looked aquatic," Jenson offered. "Slick skin, like an amphibian. It's probably been in that pond all this time."

"Is there more than one?" Jack asked, still looking angry.

The outpost leader shrugged. "Could be. I only saw one." He looked away, towards the door. "Thank god."

The colonel watched him for a moment, then headed for the mess hall, catching Carter by the arm and pulling her with him. "What's your opinion on this?"

She glanced towards Jenson, who was leaning, ashen-faced, against the wall. "Honestly," she said slowly, "I didn't see it, sir. Something got Larson, and whatever it was had to have scared Jenson pretty bad, but I don't know what it was."

"What _exactly_ happened out there?"

She hesitated, trying to sort out the memories. It had blurred slightly into a large, panicky mass, and it took her a moment to find the beginning. "We were at that pond you tried to push me into the other day," she said. He nodded. "Larson thought Neil had been gathering around there. So we had a look around, found some sort of footprint. At least, I think it was a footprint. Larson took a picture. I went off, following some bootprints in the sand that led into the jungle. I heard something moving. I thought it was Neil, but when I called there was no answer. I shone my light toward it and it ran, I think. I radioed the others, and next thing I knew, Larson was screaming. I tried to get to him…" she broke off, shaking her head. "By the time I got out onto the beach, he was gone. No blood, nothing. Then Jenson came yelling out of the jungle, saying that Larson was dead and to run. I did." She paused again. "I'm sorry, sir. I should've stayed to look for him. With your permission, I'll lead the search party back."

"Look, Carter," Jack said, touching her arm. "It's not your fault. As to a search party… I'm still considering whether or not to send one."

"What?" She frowned. "But sir, they could still be alive out there. And we need to find out more about what these things are."

"Last time we sent a party out, we lost Larson. I don't want to risk any more lives."

"Sir," she pointed out, "we may be risking our lives by _not_ going. Who knows how many of those things are out there? It might also be a good idea to start fortifying the base."

"I agree," Higgs spoke up, startling them both. He sat down next to Carter at the table. "Whether or not we send a search group, I think starting some fortifications is a good plan." He looked between the two officers. "I was talking to Jenson. He thinks the creature was… what did he call it? Photophobic. Scared of light. He also thinks there could be other species out there, dangerous like it, that we haven't seen at all yet."

"You see?" said Jack, foul mood returning. "This is why I hate research outposts."

"Because the ones that seem like paradise always end up turning out evil?" Carter guessed.

"Exactly."

"Well," she said, "on the bright side, it's a good thing we were assigned to this base at all, sir."

The colonel looked dubious. "It is?"

"Think of what would've happened if there were no military personnel present. They'd be defenceless."

"But we wouldn't be here, Carter," Jack pointed out. He grumbled a sigh and stood. "I'm getting a pudding. Anyone else want something?"

Carter laughed a bit despite herself. "I'll make coffee."

"Ooh," said Higgs. "Sounds nice."

* * *

They ended up deciding to send a search party out. As requested, Carter was on it, but not as leader. It was to be a military team, comprised of Carey, Dawson, and Carter, with Jack in charge. Higgs was to stay behind and help the others start up some fortifications. They were to keep radio contact at all times.

They handed out the weapons. There weren't many, just enough for each SG team member, and everyone seemed a little tense as the P90s were passed around. The scientists, on average fairly untrained, weren't big on the idea of being left behind while all the guys with the guns headed out to hunt aliens, but didn't complain much after Jack set his foot down, quite literally.

"Shut _up!_" he exclaimed, stomping loudly once. The others immediately fell silent. "_Thank_ you. Now, Carter, Carey, Dawson, and I are going out there. You're staying here. No use fighting it – it's already been decided. Just stay put and work on making some fortifications to the base." He looked around at the crowded armoury. "You know, batten the hatches. Listen to Higgs. _Don't _make a fuss!"

That done, Higgs shooed everyone not on the search team out, leaving the four to gear up in silence. It was much too hot for jackets, and the tactical vests grated harshly on the bare skin of Sam's shoulders. She tugged at the straps of the tank top, trying to minimize the contact, to little success. Sighing, she clipped an extra flashlight onto her vest and tightened its buckles. With any luck, reducing its movement would reduce the rubbing. Quickly, she patted the pockets, checking to make sure their contents were all there.

"Ready?"

"Yes, sir," she replied along with the two lieutenants.

"Okay." Jack glanced around at the three of them. "Let's go."

Outside, it was dark. The very last tinges of sunset lingered in the sky, but not nearly enough to see by. Four P90s swung up to ready positions, and four slender beams of light cut the darkness ahead.

"Don't suppose this planet has any moons," Jack commented, looking up.

"There's one, sir," Carter replied. "It should be up in… twenty hours or so."

"Oh," said Jack. "Great."

The jungle was quiet, at least relatively so. Insects still chirped, hummed, and buzzed, but compared to the day, it was almost total silence. The air was hot, muggy, and smelt like dirt. Carter was tense, and suspected the others were as well. She kept both ears attentive, searching constantly for any sign of movement.

"We should check out the pond first, sir," she suggested. Out of the corner of her eye, she could just make out his nod.

"Don't you think it would be a good idea to be quiet?" That was Carey's voice, hushed and coming from a few feet off to Carter's left.

The team looked at each other. Probably wasn't a bad idea… But the way twigs and god knows what else were crunching underfoot seemed to make talking superfluous. Anything out there would hear them coming a mile away.

With that in mind, Carter kept moving, making a conscious effort to keep her breathing steady. Every twitch of every leaf sent a thrill over her arms and into her stomach until it was a miracle she could hold her gun straight. She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, then let it out slowly. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd been scared like this. It was part of her job. Like always, she would work through it.

It was, however, rare that she felt so sure she was being stalked, and _that_ was not a good feeling.

Still. She had to get over it. Larson and Neil could still be alive. She wasn't about to risk them just because she was _scared_.

Settling her shoulders and taking another deep breath, she felt the fear begin to pass. They hadn't seen or heard a thing, and they'd been walking for at least ten minutes. Maybe there was only the one creature. It was probably nowhere nearby.

Probably.

"Here," she said, turning out onto the rocky ledge overlooking the pond. The others followed, fanning out behind her. "It was just down there that we ran into it."

They clambered down the rocks to the beach. "These the footprints you were talking about?" Jack asked, toeing a spot in the sand.

She doubled back, looking down. "Yeah."

"Weird."

"So is this," said Dawson. "It's a camera."

Sam stepped closer, taking it from him gingerly and brushing the sand off it. "It's Larson's."

Besides the camera, there was nothing on the beach. Several sets of bootprints were scattered about, leading in all directions and generally useless for tracking. Somehow, though, Dawson managed to find what seemed to be Neil's trail and pursued it off around the pond with the others in tow.

A cave. They stopped outside it, staring down at the ground, which was scattered with small bones.

"Well this is cliché," said Jack. Sam smiled tightly.

They ventured inside, all guns held at the ready. The soft sounds of their feet echoed off the walls, but nothing else seemed to be stirring. It was small relief – it could mean they were alone in here, or it could mean that whatever was in here with them was very, very quiet. Sam shifted her grip on her P90.

"Here," Carey whispered, motioning the others over. She bent to pick something up, and held it up for them all to see. "Neil's radio."

From a couple feet away, Dawson spoke up, his voice low but filled with obvious distaste. "These bones are human."

He was right. They were a broken jumble, and some were covered in long gashes, but they were definitely human, and fresh. There were two skulls. Carter shut her eyes. So that was it, then. They were dead, both Neil and Larson.

"Poor Shauna," Carey murmured.

Carter nodded. She hadn't known Neil very well, but she'd gotten on pretty well with Larson. He'd been friendly, if a bit bumbling, and something of a friend. She hadn't expected to lose him, especially not like this.

After a long moment, Jack spoke. "Let's head back. Not much point sticking around here."

It was a quiet walk back to the outpost. While the two populations, military and scientist, didn't mix a whole lot, everyone had known Larson and Neil, and no one was happy about finding their mangled skeletons. Eaten alive – not a pretty fate for anyone. For their sakes, everyone hoped they'd had the fortune to die quickly.

* * *

Seated on her bunk, Carter unclipped her vest and dumped it off to the side. She shrugged out of her shirt with a groan, leaning back against the wall, eyes closed. It had been a long, trying day. She shifted a bit, feeling the ache in her ribs from the fall earlier, and breathed deeply, trying to release some of the bottled stress. She winced, sitting up again. One hand went to her side, gingerly probing the bruised flesh, while the other landed on her vest, propping herself up. That was an odd lump, she thought, pausing. There, in the pocket. What was that?

She opened it up and pulled out a small black box. Larson's camera. She stared down at it for a long moment, running a finger over its dusty surface, then turned it over and pressed 'power'. The screen glowed into life, giving a murky, slightly pixellated image of her knee. With a steeling breath, she pushed the knob to display mode.

The first image was of a concrete floor with part of a boot in the corner, probably a test – or, knowing Larson, an accident. Next, a clearing she recognized as the outpost's site, filled with crates and boxes. Then, a series of partially constructed walls, interspersed with various plants and close-ups of leaves. There was one of Higgs, uniform undershirt drenched with sweat, leaning against a half-installed door and grinning, and another of Colonel O'Neill with his hat pulled low over his face and a coloured straw reaching from his mouth to what looked like some sort of protein smoothie. Then came more plants, and some insects pinned down to white backing, more plants, and more nearly-completed outpost. Then, completed outpost, and a smiling team. Everyone was in it – the camera must've been on a timer – and they all looked _happy_.

Carter remembered the moment. The outpost had just been finished, after long weeks of gruelling work. They were all tired, hot, and stank, but so proud of what they'd accomplished that even standing close together with their arms around each other didn't seem like a bad thing. She zoomed in on the image, scanning from face to face. Higgs, Carey, and Dawson, all smiling. Cullins looking the wrong way. Herself, with her eyes closed but mouth grinning widely. Jack, looking sweaty but remarkably cheerful. Neil, positively beaming. It was her first time offworld—

"Oh." Jack's voice startled her back to the present. "Hi, Carter."

"Colonel," she greeted him, her smile a little strained. "I was just… looking through the camera. It's Larson's, the one we found on the beach."

"Oh," he said again, approaching slowly. "Any reason you're uh… out of uniform?"

She looked down at herself and blinked. She'd taken her shirt off, meaning to relax for a few precious minutes in the dark, cooling down a little, but had forgotten to put it back on. Now, illuminated by the glow of the camera's screen, she was quite topless.

And suddenly nowhere near as cool as she should've been.

Quickly, she snatched up her shirt and pulled it back over her head. "Sorry, sir," she said, standing awkwardly. "Want to have a look at the pictures?"

"Sure," he agreed. "Have a seat, Carter. My back aches already."

She sat back down and he eased himself onto the bunk beside her, groaning slightly. "How did that last door go?" she asked, looking over at him.

"Oh, alright," he replied. "It's fortified – not like we really know what against. But it should hold."

"Sir," she began, "I was thinking. When I shone my light at the creature in the jungle, when I was out with Larson and Jenson, it went berserk. I think the light may have been agitating it somehow. It would support Jenson's theory that it's photophobic, maybe even to the point of giving us another defence."

"What's that?"

"Lights, sir," she said. "We have a bunch of floods. We could hook some of them up, turn them on if we notice any activity around the base."

"Why not just leave them on all the time?"

"They'll deplete the outpost's solar batteries. We've already had to shut down the refrigerators and the cooling system in Lab 3. We should try to keep lights to a minimum inside the base, in case we need the floods outside."

Jack nodded. "Listen, Higgs and Carey are taking watch tonight. I'm gonna get some sleep. We can look at the camera in the morning." He glanced down at his watch and amended, "Later in the morning." He shrugged. "You should get some sleep too, Carter."

He stood and she followed suit, pushing her vest off and beneath the bunk, leaving the P90 accessible. She tucked the camera in securely next to it and straightened. Jack was looking hard down at her. "You okay?"

She smiled. "'Course, sir."

He caught her upper arms and squeezed gently. "Good." She smiled again, a little more genuinely. His hands lingered, and neither of them moved.

In the darkness, she could barely see him. He was an outline, a silhouette in the sliver of light that managed to get around the slightly open door, but she still knew the expression on his face. This was one of those moments, the ones that were becoming rarer and rarer as they both got better at burying feelings exactly like these. He was staring down at her, face intent. There was desire, pure want, beneath that expression, and beneath that, subconscious anger at everything that kept these moments from being allowed. Anger that bloomed more prominently, just for a second, as she forced herself to shift on her feet.

"Sir?" she questioned, her voice rough. So much effort just to say the word –to keep her eyes on his, not on his mouth.

"Right," he said, stepping back. "Night, Carter."

"Good night, sir," she murmured, watching him head for his bunk. She blinked, once, and shook it off.


	7. R1 Chapter 3

Okay, so this one's a bit early. That's my admittedly crappy way of making up for the next one being absurdly late. I'm going to my cottage, you see, which is _very_ rural and _very _much without any internet whatsoever. I PROMISE, though, that I'll do my best to find an internet cafe in town and post as soon as I can. At the latest, there'll be a new chapter up immediately upon my return. Which is in three weeks. Yeah. I suck. I'm sorry. I'll do a double chapter post or something. Sorries! :(

I do like this chapter, though. Kinda excited about it, not gonna lie.

* * *

R1

The coffee was crap, but the sandwiches weren't bad, and like Carter had hoped, sitting down to a meal raised everyone's spirits. Or rather, standing up to a meal – everyone was still too flighty for sitting. They crowded around the counter, where a flashlight was lying, casting the group in uneven shadows. Carter had made enough for everyone to have one and a half, and they all appreciated it.

Jack elbowed his way to the front to nab a roast beef-and-mustard, winding up – not entirely accidentally – next to the cook. She smiled up at him, catching a drip of mayonnaise from her sandwich with one finger. He nudged her arm with his teasingly and she looked slightly sheepish, tucking the finger into her mouth. It emerged again, clean and glistening faintly in the dim light, and stayed where it was, resting against her lips. A glimpse of a tongue peeked out for a moment, brushing the moist skin.

The lips quirked and the finger moved back down to the table. Jack blinked and swallowed hard, hauling his gaze away. Mechanically, he took a bite of his sandwich and frowned a bit at the taste of mustard, instead of mayonnaise. Then again, he thought, glancing at Carter who was catching another drip as it oozed out the side of her bread, maybe it was just as well that he had mustard.

Less… messy.

A sudden gasp from beside him jolted him back into reality. "Sir!" Carter exclaimed. "I almost forgot! Our scheduled contact time!"

The little speck of mayo at the corner of her mouth was, for the moment, pushed aside. "When is it?" he asked, setting the half-eaten sandwich down on the counter.

Her watch glowed to life. "Twenty minutes," she reported.

Jack glanced around at the crowd. "It's ten to the Gate. If we get moving now, we'll make it. Carter, you're with me. The rest of you, stay here."

Daniel raised a hand. "Uh, don't you think you should take someone with you?"

"It took at least twenty bullets to take down that creature on the firing range," Jack said, shaking his head. "I'd rather not have to face another one. Particularly when we're on a schedule. Speaking of which…" He turned, snatching up the flashlight and heading for the armoury.

"Less people are less likely to be spotted," Carter elaborated to Daniel, trotting after Jack.

"If you say so," Daniel said, clearly not convinced. "Just be sure to give a shout if you get _mauled_…"

"I'm with the colonel on this one, Jackson," said Higgs, apparently also following. "They aren't gonna be out there for long. It'll be best if they attract as little attention as possible."

Standing outside the door with his flashlight, Daniel watched Jack and Carter get their gear on. Jack, tugging his vest closed, looked up at him. "What?" he asked. "We'll be right back."

"I hope so too," Daniel muttered. Carter clipped her P90 to her jacket and squeezed his shoulder as she stepped past him.

Jack was only a couple of steps behind her. They made their way to the base's front entrance and paused. Higgs, Daniel, and Carey stood by, the hastily-added additional locks undone. "We're ready," Higgs said, lifting his gun to emphasize.

"Good," said Jack, hand on the doorknob. "Hold the fort and all that. See you in half an hour."

Carefully, he pushed the door open. Carter swung around, flashlight aloft. "Looks clear, sir," she whispered. Jack opened the door a little wider and then came around as well, squinting into the darkness. Looked clear.

They stepped cautiously out, onto the packed ground. Jack turned back to give a thumbs up to Higgs, who returned it and shut the door again, leaving the outpost a large, dark blob behind them. They ventured further into the yard, P90 beams slicing the night air. Nothing seemed to be moving – _nothing_. The jungle, as they entered it by the path to the Stargate, was silent. There was no wind, no noise, nothing.

Not even any bugs.

Dang, thought Jack. Would've liked to have had it like this for the rest of our lovely little visit.

He let Carter take point, walking a step and a half behind her and keeping a constant eye on the trees around them. His stomach was churning, though whether that was due to the stale coffee and unrefrigerated roast beef or to the distinct feeling of being stalked, he wasn't sure.

Thankfully, the Gate wasn't far. They were moving quickly, as fast as they dared without making a sound. Coming out into the small clearing was a relief, and Jack did a quick scout of the perimeter before settling by the DHD, his back to Carter.

"How long till they call?" he asked quietly.

Fabric shifted a bit as Carter checked her watch. "Two minutes," she reported.

Right. Jack nodded and glanced around at the jungle. His light stood out almost painfully against the blackness. "Carter," he whispered, "I'm kind of feeling like the flashlights are a bad idea."

"They're better than the alternative, sir," she pointed out.

"Yeah," he said, "but don't you think they attract just a little too much attention? We could always turn them back on if anything, you know, jumps out at us."

"We might not see them in time, sir," she said. "It'll take our eyes at least a minute to adjust enough to be able to pick them out at all. If they're already out there, we'd be practically inviting them in."

"Good point," he agreed. There was silence for a moment. "Time?"

"Any second now," she said.

Slowly, Jack counted. One, two… Was that a branch twitching? He scanned the area with his light. Nothing. His mind was playing tricks on him. Wonderful. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…

"How long are we gonna wait?" he asked, the count reaching thirty.

"Give it another couple of minutes, sir," she said. "It's possible that this planet's slower rotation and motion around its sun are enough to cumulatively speed our time up enough to throw our watches ahead of the SGC's. Granted the effect would be hardly noticeable, but…"

"Okay, okay," Jack muttered. "I'll take your word for it." He paused. Could he really take her word for it if he had no idea what her word had actually been? "_Word_, singular. Well, actually, words…" he counted on one hand: _Another couple of minutes, sir._ "I'll take your five words for it."

He heard a soft snort. "Yes, sir." Yep, there was a smile in that voice. He smiled too.

Time crawled by. Jack kept counting. "Almost at three hundred, Carter," he informed her.

"Three hundred what?" she asked.

"I've been—" he broke off. Was that a twig snapping that he'd just heard? He listened hard.

"Sir?"

He reached backward quickly to grab her arm, telling her silently to stay quiet.

Snap.

His light shot to the source of the noise. Leaves stirred. Behind him, something else shifted. Off to the right, on the far side of the Stargate. "Oh," he murmured, "Not good…"

"We need a little more time, sir," Carter breathed.

"We don't have it," he said, reaching carefully back to take her arm again. "Let's go. Now."

Very slowly, they began to move towards the path. Each boot was lifted and set down with infinite care, neither of them willing to even risk a rustle of fabric. Finally, the tree line – not that it came as much of a relief. Both their P90s were readied at their shoulders, fingers hovering on the triggers. The lights raked through the trees.

Jack gave Carter a little nudge from behind and she picked up her pace. He followed, turning in circles to check for any pursuers. So far, the leafy undergrowth seemed undisturbed. Not too far to the base…

This was one of the things Jack hated most about missions – the feeling of being stalked. He _knew_ the creatures were out there. They could see him, but he couldn't see them. There were goosebumps all along his arms, despite the heat, and his heart thudded loud enough against his ribs that – all clichés aside – he was _sure_ anything within twenty feet could hear it. He took a deep breath, using it to settle himself, and did another sweep of the surrounding trees.

Turning sideways, he didn't see Carter stop, and consequently walked straight into her. Adrenaline shot through him and he spun back around, finger tensing on the trigger—

"_Carter_," he hissed. "I goddamn near _shot_—"

She was frozen, staring ahead, and his gaze shifted over her shoulder. There was a large, glistening form blocking the path, illuminated by Carter's flashlight. It was half-turned away from them, the light on its side, giving them an impressive silhouette. It shifted, lifting a front leg and setting it down again, now half facing them. Carter's beam moved to its face and it hissed, baring shiny teeth and ducking its head.

"_Shoot_," whispered Jack.

She did.

The thing screamed and threw itself off the path, crashing away into the jungle. They watched it go, both guns following its path. Behind them, something rustled. "Let's head back," suggested Jack. "Shall we, Carter?"

"Uh," she glanced sideways at the jungle, "yes, sir." And they were off.

Already halfway home, they made it to the yard in under a minute. Brains far too occupied with running, they didn't think twice about the open door until they were already inside and greeted with nothing but darkness. Jack shut the door behind them and scanned the hallway with his flashlight. Nothing moved.

"Hello?" Carter called breathlessly, walking forward. Jack followed a few steps behind, frowning. There was an odd dark spot on the floor a yard or so ahead…

He crouched down next to it, knowing what it was before he touched it. "Blood," he said. Carter was a few paces further in, making a quick examination of the long gouges on the wall. She stepped cautiously around the entrance to the kitchen, gun at the ready. Jack straightened and moved to join her.

They crept forward, making a careful examination of the room as they went. There was nothing immediately apparent, but they kept on, checking every nook and possible hiding spot. "Nothing," Carter said from behind the counter. "Do you think they're…?"

Jack didn't reply but gestured for silence, on his way back out into the hallway. The door to the bunkroom was next on the right, and half-open. Jack motioned Carter around to the other side of the doorway, then gave the door a nudge. It swung slowly back and they fanned back, two beams of light slicing into the dark interior.

There was no movement. "Higgs?" Jack called softly. "Jenson?" No answer.

They moved tentatively into the room, keeping their backs to the wall. Jack's eyes darted from object to object, well trained and observant. Nothing was moving, as far as he could tell.

This was, in a way, a hunt, and Jack had never liked hunting, even when he himself was in no danger. He'd never liked the idea of sneaking around, stalking something. Now, he liked it even less. Not only did he have no idea where his quarry was, that quarry was easily twice his size, probably knew _exactly_ where he was, and was much better equipped to kill him than he was it. No, Jack did not like this _at all_.

He fully intended to gripe about it later to Hammond. He would _personally_ make sure they were never assigned to another research outpost.

"Sir." That was Carter's whisper. She was crouched by one of the bunks, beckoning him over. He came, slowly, turning around to check behind him for anything else that might be following. Finally next to her, he turned his attention to what she'd found.

It was a body – or at least, part of one. Dark blood seeped out around what looked like a shoulder. There were several lumps in the blood, probably some bits of flesh from whatever organ – Jack didn't want to know. A trail of blood led away into the back of the room, until it vanished abruptly through a large, rough hole in the wall where one of the slatted windows used to be.

Jack winced. "Any ID?"

Carter shook her head. "I don't think there's anything else in this room," she said. "We should check the others."

He nodded and she stood, heading for the door. Jack followed, casting a look back at the gruesome finding as he passed through the doorway – just in time to catch a glimpse of something moving outside the hole.

Carter was opening her mouth to speak. She managed to get out a "Where to n—" before Jack had grabbed her bodily, clapping a hand over her mouth and pulling her up against a wall, out of sight of whatever was entering the compound. He switched off his light and counted five heartbeats, then carefully twisted backwards to look into the bunkroom. He didn't see movement – but then again, he didn't see much of anything. His eyes, used to his P90's beam, were useless in the new darkness.

He kept staring, though, able to make out silhouettes of the bunks and the slight glow of the hole to outside. Carter, meanwhile, had gone rigid against him. He felt one of her hands grabbing subtly at the fabric of his pants, trying to get his attention without actually moving. Cold dread settled in his stomach, and, very slowly, he turned his head back into the hallway.

Before he'd even gotten halfway, he saw what Carter was so afraid of. The creature was close, its face right up in hers. He watched it in peripheral, one free hand inching his gun upwards while the other stayed clamped over her mouth. Any obvious movement now would break the spell, and that would mean instant death for Carter, and probably for him.

The thing was just staring at her, and she was staring right back at it. Its head was small compared to its body, which was just a dark mass behind it as it loomed over them. Long, needle-like teeth glinted faintly, and a long hiss of breath washed over them. Carter, to her credit, was tense as steel, but not trembling. Pressed as closely to Jack as she was, he could feel her heart hammering, but she wasn't breathing. Though, for that matter, neither was he.

There could be no sound, no movement. They both knew it.

Jack kept bringing up his gun. Almost there…

The creature's head moved closer, nearly touching Carter's nose. It exhaled again, bathing them in hot, sticky air. Jack's gun was nearly pointed at it. Patience, he screamed at himself. Wait. Wait for the shot. Shoot now and miss—you're both dead. Wait. Patience.

The creature's long front leg lifted, coiling backwards like a spear. Jack saw it go, knowing immediately what would follow, and just barely managed to stop his eyes from widening. Carter was _not_ going to get run through. Not on his watch.

He hauled his gun the rest of the way up and fired. The creature reeled back, screeching. He kept firing, shoving Carter off to the side to get a clear shot at its head. There was a last, strangled scream, and the thing crumpled into a mess of tattered flesh and blood.

He flicked his light back on and turned it towards Carter, who was picking herself up off the ground. "You okay?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," she nodded, a bit shakily. "You?"

"Fine."

"It's dead?"

Jack nudged the thing with one boot. "Yep."

Somewhere, not far off, there was a long, eerie cry, reminiscent of the creature's dying scream. Another answered it. Carter's wide eyes met his. "There's more."

Jack nodded grimly. "Yep."


	8. R2 Chapter 3

Look! I'm back! I'm sorry I didn't find that cafe. I really did look. I actually did. Seriously. And no matter what, I'm gonna sound sarcastic. But REALLY, I LOOKED. Anyway. Here's the next chapter. It's a little short, but the one after it is extra long and extra awesome. Remember, guys, that reviews are always appreciated, even if I don't particularly deserve them after such an absence. But yeah. They're a pretty good incentive to update sooner. HINT.

* * *

R2

If there was one thing Carter hated about sleeping offworld, it was being woken suddenly by imminent danger. Unfortunately for her, what she did or didn't like didn't have much bearing on when hostiles decided to infringe on her sleep – and as it were, she was suddenly awake with a hand clamped firmly over her mouth. Imminent danger.

Eyes wide, she saw the colonel above her. He glanced over his shoulder then turned back and met her questioning stare. Satisfied that she'd gotten the message for silence, he released her mouth and pulled her up by the arm.

His lips were moving without sound. She frowned, not having caught it. He pulled a bit of a face and leaned towards her, mouth by her ear. "There's one inside the base."

She shivered, not needing to be told one what. "Where?" she breathed.

"Don't," Jack said slowly, almost silently, "know." He drew back to look at her. "P90?"

She swung her legs off the bunk, reaching below it to produce the weapon. The colonel nodded and stood. "Help me wake the others."

They did, much in the same way he'd woken her. Jack got Dawson, Daniel, and Jenson, while Carter took Cullins and Younge. The SG-16 doctor registered her face above his with a sort of long-suffering acceptance, as if this sort of thing happened every day. Younge, a fresher addition to the offworld crew, jerked awake, wide-eyed, and bit Carter's hand.

She wrenched it back, swallowing a startled cry, and quickly clapped the other over his mouth. "Younge!" she hissed. "It's okay. It's just me."

The kid's blue eyes focussed on hers and he relaxed somewhat. She pulled her hand away. "What's—"

The hand shot back over his lips. Leaning in close, she whispered, "One of the creatures got into the base."

He nodded, going tense again. Cautiously, she drew her hand back. She motioned for him to get up. "Your P90?" she asked softly.

"Armoury, ma'am," he replied.

Carter nodded, resigning the weapon as a lost cause for now, and moved off, finding the colonel in the small crowd. He looked grim but calm, an expression she knew well as things-aren't-going-how-I'd-like-them-to-but-dammit-I-can't-do-a-thing. Daniel joined them, rubbing his glasses on his shirt.

"Why are the lights off?" he whispered, sliding the glasses onto his nose.

Jack looked at him. "We're trying for inconspicuous," he said. "It'll notice right away if we turn them on."

"You don't think it's heard us?" Cullins asked, glancing towards the door.

It was said more loudly than was required – or desired – and Jack grimaced. "It probably has _now_," he muttered.

Jenson sank onto one of the bunks, leaning his elbows on his knees. "It doesn't matter if we talk or not," he said quietly. "They'll find us."

That seemed to be a final straw for the colonel. Sam watched as he surged forward, seizing the outpost leader by the collar. The smaller man was hauled to his feet and pushed against the bunk. With Jack's face right up in his, Sam couldn't hear what was said, but even in the dim light, their expressions came through loud and clear.

If all he was gonna do was scare people, he could take a long walk outside to get himself _well_ scared. And preferably, he wouldn't bother coming back.

They were empty threats, of course, and probably a little more extreme than Jenson had merited, but ever since the first encounter with the creatures, he had barely let up on the dark, pessimistic remarks. Now, everyone was stressed, tense, and already scared enough. Carter might not have taken _quite_ the same tactic, had she been in the colonel's position, but she didn't wholly disagree with him. Neither did anybody else, it seemed. No one stepped forward to intervene.

After a long moment, Jack released the scientist, turning away in annoyance. Cautiously, Cullins approached Carter. "Uh, ma'am?" he asked softly, tentatively. She could see his face. He looked… resigned. Her stomach lurched. She knew what he was about to ask, and she had a pretty good idea of the answer. "Where's Lisa and Chris?"

She looked toward the colonel. He glanced around at the group of dark figures surrounding him. "I…" he began. Dawson took half a step forward and stopped, waiting for the response. "They were on guard," Jack said. "I haven't seen them since I turned in around 0100." He paused again, probably wondering if more explanation was due. Obviously, it was, but he didn't have the right answers. "I heard noises, I think, about ten minutes ago. Woke me up. I got up to…" he cleared his throat, "visit the facilities, and ran into our critter in the hallway." He looked between Cullins and Dawson. "There was blood on the wall, but I didn't see Higgs or Carey."

Sam shut her eyes for a moment, working to get a handle on her emotions. For her own benefit almost as much as his, she reached out for Cullin's shoulder and squeezed. He was looking down at his feet, the rims of his glasses glinting slightly in the dim light from the windows. She felt a tremor run through him and tightened her grip on his shoulder.

Lisa Carey and Chris Higgs, lieutenant and major, aged twenty-seven and thirty six. One was engaged to be married, and the other had three young kids.

Oh god.

Carter clamped her teeth together. How could they have lost two more? This was a _research outpost_, for crying out loud. _No one_ was supposed to get hurt, let alone die. And they'd lost _four_.

She felt Daniel's hand on her own shoulder and offered him a small, forced smile. He returned it and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a metallic scraping.

Everyone froze.

There was another scraping sound, shorter this time and louder, and then a sharp bang. The door to the bunkroom shook slightly under an organic-sounding thud.

The creature was right outside. For a moment, they all just listened. Somehow, over the blood rushing through her ears, Carter could hear a snort of breath, filtering through the thin door. Something brushed against the metal, dragging slowly and then pushing. The door shifted but stayed closed.

"Please tell me you locked that," Daniel breathed.

Jack's head twitched, a barely perceptible nod. "You betcha."

There was silence for a beat, and then a much louder thud. The door flexed ominously.

"Okay," said Jack. "Locked or not, that's gonna give. Any other way out of this place?"

Wide-eyed, Younge shook his head.

The light was still glinting off Cullins' glasses. Ideas bloomed, and Carter's heart leapt. "Sir," she spoke up, hurrying forward. "The windows. The walls are joined at each window. The seams are overlapping. If we can get the bolts off—"

"Gotcha," the colonel said, following her to the outside wall. He ran his hands along the small bump of the joined metal, feeling for the bolts. Another thud sounded from the door. "Wrench?" he asked hopefully. No one produced one. "Okay," he said. He took two steps back and lifted his gun. "Carter?"

She was right with him. Squinting her eyes for the minimal protection her eyelids could provide from flying bits of metal, she opened fire, tracing along the seam. Outside the door, there was a loud cry, high pitched and eerie. Ignoring the goosebumps that prickled along her arms, Carter stepped forward and examined the damage. The bullets hadn't carved a complete line through the joined pieces of metal, but they had done away quite nicely with the bolts holding them together. The colonel leaned a shoulder against one and gave it a good shove. It rent outwards with a screech, pulling away from the ground, and Jack tumbled through.

He pushed himself up from the ground, wincing slightly, and hauled the metal further back. "C'mon," he hissed, motioning quickly. Daniel ducked through the opening, followed by the others. Carter brought up the end, and glanced back just in time to see the door break off one of its hinges and something dark push its head into the room.

"Go!" she whispered urgently. "Run!"

"To where?" Jenson demanded.

"Anywhere," Jack snapped, grabbing the man's arm and pulling him along.

The colonel took up the lead, his P90 held raised but the light off. Carter followed suit a short ways behind, herding the group onto the path, and Dawson covered the rear, sidearm in hand. A drop of water hit Carter's cheek as she skirted the stump of a fallen tree and she spared a glance up at the sky. It was clouding over, the stars mostly covered. A small circle remained off to one side, almost perfectly round.

She blinked.

Then sprinted to catch up with the colonel.

"Sir!" she exclaimed. "Our contact time! We need to get to the Stargate!"

"When is it?" he asked, slowing.

She held up her watch. "Two minutes."

"Christ, Carter," he muttered, and swerved off the path.

They dashed after him, crashing through the undergrowth with terrifying amounts of noise. They'd started off on a path parallel to the one leading to the Gate, and so were already fortunately close. In just over two minutes, they burst into the clearing that surrounded the Gate.

Out of breath, they skidded to a stop. "Did we miss it?" Jack demanded.

Carter looked at her watch again. "It's thirty seconds past," she confirmed, panting. "But taking into account the relativistic effects of this planet's slow movement around its sun—" she paused to breathe, "—added to its slow rotation, it's enough to accelerate our time compared to the SGC's." She paused again, taking another deep breath. "We could be a couple of minutes ahead of them."

"Right," said Jack. "So we wait a couple of minutes?"

"Yes, sir," she nodded. "I'd give it five."

"Okay." He breathed deeply and turned to survey the group. "Everyone here? Those of you who've been eaten, please say _aye_…"

No one laughed, but no one said aye, either. Sam did a quick headcount: seven, including herself. No one had gotten lost. No one _else_. Her thoughts turned back to Higgs and Carey and she swallowed hard, forcing herself to scrabble at Einstein's field equations instead.

Naturally unsuccessful at that, she peered around at the edge of the jungle. Clear, as far as she could tell. So they were safe for the moment.

Seconds ticked by, in fact faster than on Earth but feeling much, _much_ slower. Not that they would actually notice the time difference themselves, of course, but…

Sam frowned, trying to stop her mind from racing ahead.

Wouldn't the SGC have compensated for the difference, though? But then, the wormhole should've still been open when they'd arrived.

Unless it hadn't worked.

But that didn't make sense, because even in a disturbance field, a wormhole from a stable, normal area of subspace should've been able to form partially, and in a power shortage, there was nothing to stop an incoming wormhole from forming completely.

The only thing that would explain a total non-occurrence was that something was deliberately preventing it. But what would do that?

She stepped forward, handing her P90 to Younge, and used the edge of her knife to pry open the central panel of the DHD. In the dark, the colour-coded crystals were all an identical shade of grey. "Can I have a light?" she requested of anyone that might be able to oblige.

Jack stepped over, holding out a small flashlight. She took it, turned it on, and clamped it between her teeth, examining the crystals again. Everything looked normal… except for a tiny blue shard sticking up off to the right. She peered at it, leaning down.

"Weird," she murmured, straightening.

"What's weird?" That was the colonel, staring over her shoulder.

"This crystal." She tapped it gently. "Sir, I've seen crystals like this in radio receivers."

"The Goa'uld use radios?" he questioned, sceptical.

"Not specifically," she explained, still examining it. "But most of their short-range communicators use radio waves in combination with—"

"Okay," Jack said, holding up a hand. "Too much talking. Shh."

"Right," she breathed. "Sorry, sir."

Carefully, she tugged the crystal out of its slot and shone the flashlight directly onto it. It glistened pale blue in her fingers, then, as she turned it, seemed to glow faintly. She shut the light off and the glow disappeared almost immediately. But it had definitely been there.

Her eyes widened. Was this what had been preventing the wormhole from forming? It would make sense…

"Sir," she whispered excitedly, "I think I know why the Gate won't work."

"Oh?" he arched an eyebrow, his eyes on the treeline.

"It's this crystal," she said. "It's activated by radio waves – presumably a certain frequency. When it's deactivated, the Gate's deactivated as well."

"Where does it get the waves from?" Daniel asked, moving closer.

"The sun, I'd guess," Carter said, glancing upwards fruitlessly. "But look, I can activate it with the flashlight." Demonstrating, she grinned. "So it should be simple to get the Gate working again."

"Be my guest, major," the colonel said, sweeping a hand toward the DHD.

"Yes, sir." She slipped the crystal back into its place and gingerly balanced the flashlight so that the beam pointed straight at it. Then, replacing the lid, she took half a step back. "That should work, sir."

Jack reached a hand to press the first symbol. He paused. "Anyone have their IDC with them?"

When no one replied, Dawson piped up, suggesting P3Z 980. "SG-11's there, mining. We could borrow theirs."

The colonel accepted the idea with an approving nod and hit the first button. Nothing happened. "Carter?"

She frowned. "I don't know, sir," she began. "It must not be a strong enough—"

A long, warbled cry sounded in the distance. Another echoed it, short and barking, but distinctly similar and distinctly nearer. The group shifted, moving slightly closer together.

"Any other ideas in the near future?" Jack asked.

Carter blanched. "It should've worked, sir," she said quickly, a bit apologetically. "The only explanation I can think of is that the signal wasn't strong enough. But our radios give such a limited range of frequencies – the odds of them having the right one are… well, almost negligible. We need a stronger signal, something that can broadcast all frequencies."

There was a moment's silence.

"Um," Younge spoke up hesitantly, "Ma'am? We set up a relaying and transmitting station a few weeks ago when we started the long range surveys. Would that work?"

"I don't see why not," Carter said. "That's the one out on the ridge, about six clicks from here?" The lieutenant nodded. Carter looked over at Jack. "Sir, I think it's worth a try—"

"Yeah, sure," he muttered, "you betcha. We have to go _now_." She followed his gaze. A large dark shape was moving silently across the clearing toward them.

She sucked in a deep breath, taking her P90 back from Younge. "Yes, we do. Radio station?"

"Sure," said Jack, backing up. "But let's _go_, people! Carter, take them to the treeline. Get going. I'll catch up."

The others were already running. Carter hesitated a beat, "Sir—"

"Carter," he warned, eyes catching hers for a moment. They'd been here before. They both knew the drill. Whether or not they liked it was a different matter. "I'll catch up," he repeated.

She nodded, managed a brief smile, and dashed after the group. They had a head start, and she couldn't let them reach the trees without her, and so when she heard him open fire behind her, she didn't look back.


	9. R1 Chapter 4

Lookit me, guys! I posted twice! Whoo! And I'm excited about this chapter. You should be too. After this, though, it's back to the regular Friday updates. Enjoy - it's extra long this time, too.

Though, a warning. This one pushes the M-rating a little. Skip some of the last bit if you're tender.

* * *

R1

Carter was thinking again.

Not that she ever really stopped, but there were those times when Jack could tell she was really _into_ it. She'd go all vacant for a while, and then get all excited and yammer something fast and unintelligible at him, then go vacant again for another while, and then either sulk or beam that blinding smile at him as if he'd somehow made the critical contribution.

Really, the only thing he liked about Carter in thinking mode was the smile that came at the end of it.

Well, also that Carter in thinking mode often saved his ass, and Teal'c's, and Daniel's.

So, he hoped that this time, Carter in thinking mode would both save his sorry ass, those of the remainder of the outpost crew, _and_ end with a brilliantly beautiful smile.

He waited. That seemed to be his job, a lot of the time. He guarded, and he waited. They'd found the others, huddled in the infirmary with every object in the base that could possibly be construed as a weapon in there with them. Weapons they had, but Higgs they had not.

Major Christopher Higgs had stayed in the hallway while the others barricaded the infirmary door from the inside. He'd stayed, P90 in hand, and tried desperately to buy them enough time to be safe. He'd stayed, and he'd died.

Now they were nine.

Dawson was doing well, thankfully, and was sitting up, a pistol in each hand. Daniel, Jenson, Larson, and Younge were fine, and Neil was slightly less of a nervous wreck. Carey was silent and shaky, with barely-restrained anger written all over her face. She'd lost two teammates – Jack could sympathize.

Somehow, some of the food had made it into the infirmary, and protein bars were distributed among the group. Jack watched Carter bite into hers. She chewed slowly, once, twice, then stopped, not swallowing. Ah, there it was. She'd come to a conclusion. Would there be a smile? He waited, holding his breath.

She didn't smile. Then again, she didn't sulk, either, so she must've gotten her theory right but not ended up with an answer she liked.

She stood and picked her way around the clutter towards him. "Sir," she began, then seemed to realize she had something in her mouth. She chewed quickly and swallowed, pinking a bit. "I think I know why nothing happened at the contact time."

She explained it to him, saying something about missing frequencies and then suggesting a hike to a radio station six kilometres away. He nodded vaguely at the explanation, frowned at the suggestion, and asked for some time to think about it. She agreed. They didn't seem to be in too much immediate danger where they were.

The infirmary was a largely interior room, with only one of its walls bordering on the yard. The walls, like those of any other room in the base, were thin, corrugated metal. It was well lit, or would've been if they'd still had power. As it was, they had the one flashlight in use propped up against a mirror, giving off light that then reflected dully against off the walls. It filled the room dimly, not quite enough to read comfortably by – though that could have just been Jack's eyes – but certainly enough to see. It was a warm light, too, which everyone was very glad for. The air was still hot and humid, but it had cooled somewhat, and in the tension of the situation, gentle lighting was vastly preferred.

It also had the added bonus of casting Carter in soft shadows, giving her hair the slightest of glows and turning her eyes liquid.

Maybe he'd had a little too much free time to think about it.

Forcing his mind onto the proposal Carter herself had given him, he considered his options. Six clicks was a long way, especially in the dark, hunted by monsters. On the other hand, there were another eighty-some hours of night to go. While the door was holding for now, there had been no real assaults on it yet. From the looks of it, there was no way it would last another three days.

So, getting the Gate working was their only option. Carter thought she knew how, and the colonel usually trusted Carter when she thought she knew something. Reaching the radio station wouldn't be easy, but probably easiest if they tried going inconspicuously – a small team, lights off. Granted, it hadn't worked out so well last time, but Jack had always liked to think that he improved with experience.

Who would go? Obviously, he would, and he'd take Carter with him. Who else? Teal'c would be a godsend right about now, but that didn't look like it was about to happen. Jack glanced around at the people in the infirmary. Carey or Dawson would ordinarily be his choice, but Dawson couldn't walk and Carey didn't exactly seem like she was on top of her game at the moment. That left Younge, who looked fresh enough to have stepped out of the academy yesterday, and the civilian scientists. And Daniel. Yes, Daniel would do.

Clapping his hands, he stood and announced the plan to the others, leaving any technical bits he thought absolutely necessary to mention to Carter. The scientists weren't thrilled at the idea of losing a good chunk of their protection, and Carey balked for a moment at the size of the team going. Dawson muttered something about hating getting shot.

They took a P90, a pistol, and two knives each, and loaded their pockets with flashlights. Testing all the radios, they passed them around and made sure everyone was on the same channel. "Once we start broadcasting from the station," Carter warned, "we'll get a lot of interference."

"So assume no communication?" Dawson asked.

Carter nodded carefully. "We may still be able to hear each other, but it's unlikely. The static we'd be getting, though, would be continuous. We may have to turn our radios off to cut the noise."

"We'll be back as fast as we can," Jack promised. He jerked his head toward the door. "Shall we?"

The sky was clouding over, Jack noted as they stepped out into the yard. Through the remaining gaps in the clouds, stars shone happily, giving them faint, dappled light. The clearing around the outpost was empty, thankfully, and they moved quietly towards the trees. Not knowing the way, Jack motioned Carter up to point. He followed two steps behind, and kept half an eye on Daniel, two steps behind him.

They kept their pace to a brisk, controlled walk, wary of where they set their feet. Minutes passed uneventfully, the tension building in their stomachs at the lack of activity. Jack's arms ached, and he forced his grip to loosen on his gun. A slight breeze rustled a few leaves ahead and his fingers clenched again. Mentally grumbling at his nerves, he shook his head and kept walking.

Just over half an hour into the journey, the clouds finally decided they had had enough of holding onto their water and unleashed a warm torrent on the jungle. It pattered down from the canopy, hitting the three team members in large droplets or thick showers whenever the leaves above them parted.

The noise of it was phenomenal. Jack had been in jungle rains before – both here and on other worlds – but it surprised him every time. Walking quietly no longer seemed a pressing issue – nothing could possibly hear their footsteps over a downpour like this one. Of course, they couldn't possibly hear anything _else's_ footsteps.

The dark smear that soared out of the trees to the left of the path was aimed straight at Carter. It bowled her over, sending her flying a foot or so backwards before crashing into the ferny undergrowth. The creature landed beside her, long dagger-like legs gliding into the muddy ground. Jack registered it without conscious thought: the dripping, glistening fangs, Carter's unmoving form, _danger_.

He opened fire. Daniel, from behind, did the same. The creature screeched and twisted away from Carter, facing them. Jack switched his light on.

God, was it _ugly_.

Needles of teeth glinted at him as it writhed back and forth, not seeming to know what to do. Eyes, tiny and beady, squeezed filmy eyelids shut. Long forelegs lifted and stabbed at nothing.

Daniel had stopped shooting. Jack had not. The thing was moving too fast, dammit – he couldn't get a good shot. He couldn't possibly be missing all of them, but the creature wasn't falling. Come _on_… He took his finger off the trigger.

Through eyes squinted against the rain and the sudden light of his gun, he watched as the thing's head turned back to face him. It screamed again, mouth opening enough to show cracks of the inky blackness behind its teeth, and Jack fired.

Just once would probably have been enough, but dammit this thing had tried to eat Carter. _No one_ ate Carter, not while he had the least bit of say about it. The repeating shots reverberated up his arms and the creature crumpled, bullets ripping through the back of its neck. It hit the ground and the mud replied with a small splash, and finally Jack let up. It twitched once, and finally – _finally –_ was still.

Dead. Jack gave it a kick on his way over to Carter. "And good riddance," he muttered.

Daniel was right next to him as they crouched down over the major's sprawled body. She'd landed on her back, arms flung out to the sides and legs haphazardly bent. Her eyes were closed, her hair slicked back by the rain. Water ran over her face, pushing away the splatters of mud and leaves kicked up by the fall.

"Is she breathing?" Daniel asked anxiously. Jack couldn't tell. In his light, her chest was a pass of blindingly bright whiteness, not obviously rising or falling. He leaned close.

Naturally, she chose that moment to regain consciousness, and naturally, the first thing she did was sit bolt upright. Her head slammed into his, sending him reeling back. "God_dammit_, Carter!" he cried, nearly toppling over into the mud next to her. "A little _warning_ next time!"

She had fallen back, hands pressed to her forehead. She seemed to take a moment to realize what had happened, eyes at last finding him. "Oh my god, sir," she exclaimed. "Are you okay? I'm sorry!"

"No!" he emphasized. "My head _hurts_!"

She scrambled to sit up. "I'm so sorry, sir," she insisted. "I didn't know you were… well, right there!"

Daniel, _naturally_, found the whole thing absolutely hilarious.

Jack shot him a glare, the menace of which was probably mostly lost in the poor lighting. "Oh, yeah," he grumbled, "Laugh. You laugh about it. Real funny."

Carter looked from him to the archaeologist and back. "Well, actually, sir," she said slowly, a bit of a smile edging at her mouth. "It kind of _is_ funny."

He considered for a moment. It hurt, yes, but really, but whole situation was absurd. They'd just narrowly avoided being eaten and had one of their team knocked unconscious by a particularly nasty alien species, and now they'd gotten themselves into as inane a thing as a head collision. So it was _kind of_ funny, in a half-hysterical, stressed-out sort of way. Jack allowed himself a small laugh.

The chilling cry of a creature not too far off brought them back to their whacked-out reality and they hauled Carter to her feet, grimacing at the amount of mud they now all had weighing down their clothing. They made a quick inspection of the area to make sure they hadn't dropped anything, and then Jack shut his light off. They were off again.

* * *

"So," Jack said, sidling up to Carter. "About how much further, you figure?"

She looked over at him, little more than a greyish shape beside him. "Not much, sir," she replied. "I'd say another five minutes."

He nodded. "Good. I'm getting tired of walking." Was that a smile she was flashing him? Between the darkness and the rain, it was hard to tell. Pity, thought Jack.

It had been quiet again since the attack on Carter around the first half hour mark. Somehow, the tension had eased somewhat, probably due both to having seen and killed one of the creatures, and to the outburst of hilarity that had followed. That was not to say, of course, that it was gone completely. They were still tense.

But at least they were almost there.

Then, Carter just had to do her thing, and they had to walk the hour back again.

No big deal.

Jack tried not to think about it. If it worked, they would be going home.

He gave _that_ a moment's thought. Home. Someplace cool, and dry, where there were no psychotic killer amphibians trying to eat them. Somewhere where they could sleep, and kick back, and where maybe, just maybe, his Gameboy might work again.

"This is it," Carter said, tapping something metallic. Jack didn't see much, just a large shadow against slightly less shadowed jungle. He heard Carter feeling around on it, looking for the doorknob. "Here. Let's get inside." She opened it and turned back to usher them in.

In a movement faster than Jack's eyes could follow in the darkness, she let go of the door and raised her P90, opening fire at something over Jack's shoulder. Instinctively, he dropped, rolling sideways and turning, just in time to see the creature's retreating back, a kicking, yelling shadow that could only have been Daniel dangling by his backpack from its mouth.

Giving a yell, he fired after the thing, light blazing to life. The path was clear. There was no sign of the creature, or Daniel. Just leaves, dirt, and rain.

For a long second, there was only stunned silence. Daniel _couldn't_ be gone. It just… didn't make sense. It _couldn't_ have happened. They couldn't have lost Daniel.

"Oh, god," Carter whispered. "No. _Daniel_…"

She started after him, but Jack saw the movement in the trees before she did. He lunged and grabbed her arm, hauling her backwards. She stumbled and regained her balance, wrenching herself free of his grasp. "Sir!" she shouted, "We can't just _leave_—"

There was time to answer. Another creature was stepping out onto the path, eyeing them like they were the supper Jack was well aware they would be if caught. Jack pulled the still-struggling Carter through the open door and slammed it shut, finding the bolts in the swinging light of his gun and driving them home.

There was a solid thump on the other side of the metal, followed by a snort of breath and then a long cry. Jack scouted the inside of the building quickly, looking for possible escape routes. There were none. The station was tiny, one-roomed, one-doored, and made to accommodate only brief maintenance visits. It was, however, sturdily constructed, with walls that felt much thicker than those of the outpost. For now, Jack hoped, they were safe.

Except that Carter was reaching for the door, scrabbling to undo the bolts. He seized her hands and shoved her aside, pinning her to the wall. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, nearly shouting to be heard over the rain on the tin roof.

"We can't leave him, sir!" she cried. "It's _Daniel_—"

"We can't go back out ther either!" he pointed out, shifting his grip on her wrists as she pushed against him, trying for the door again.

"I won't leave him, sir!" she shouted. "Let me go! I'll go alone! I don't care—"

Roughly, he pulled her off the wall and slammed her back into it. "Major!" he barked, face inches from hers. "You are _not_ going back out there! You have a job to do, _right here_. Do it!"

She stared up at him, face cast in moving shadows by the light that was now dangling between them, tied to Jack's vest. "Don't you _care_?" she demanded furiously.

Frustrated, he released her wrists and took her shoulders instead, pressing them harshly into the metal. "Of course I _care!_" he snapped. "Dammit! Carter, he's my _friend!_ But we need to do our job, and I need you here! I shouldn't have to tell you that!"

She softened, her shoulders slumping beneath his hands. Her eyes slid downwards, and the angry set of her jaw faded. She stayed like that for a heartbeat, then with a deep, hitched breath, she looked back up at him. She was crying. She had been all this time, he realized, but with the rain running down her face he hadn't noticed. He felt his frustration slip away.

"C'mere," he said quietly, so quietly he wasn't sure she'd heard him over the rain. Gently, he pulled her off the wall and slipped his arms around her. She went gladly, her hands clutching at his back. He felt her breath catch, heard the small noise she made as she tried to suppress a sob, and then felt her melt into him. Her shoulders shook.

"Oh god," she moaned. "Daniel."

He tightened his grip on her, nearly crushing her. He felt his own breath hitch as he tried to steady himself. "Yeah," he agreed shakily, head buried in her neck. "I know."

They stayed like that for a long moment, clinging to each other in a desperate attempt to hold onto something of their team, of Daniel. It was useless, he was gone, there was nothing they could do. They would look for him, after they'd gotten this working. For now, this was their job, and they would do it, or the rest of the crew back at the outpost would die too.

Carter tugged at his arms. "Sir?" she questioned, voice small. "I… I can't breathe."

"Oh." Quickly, he released her, his hands moving up to her shoulders. "Sorry."

"It's okay," she said with a wobbly smile.

She wiped uselessly at her eyes.

He kissed her.

It just seemed like the right thing to do. He bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. Not hesitantly, not desperately, just… firmly. Naturally.

And did it _ever_ feel natural.

Before he'd even really realized what he'd done, her mouth was opening beneath his, her tongue inviting him in. He didn't refuse. Desperate need for contact surged through him – and through her, if the way she was responding was any indication. Angling his mouth against hers, he backed her into the wall again, this time with a different sort of urgency. One of her had hands hooked behind his neck and the other slid around his back, pulling him closer.

Again, not one to refuse, he pressed himself against her, tongue delving into her mouth as his hands roamed over her arms, bare and wet and still muddy from her fall. He moved on, down her sides, coming across the synthetic fabric of her vest. He drew back just enough to reach between them, fingers scrabbling at the fastenings along her chest and mouth never leaving hers. The terrifying need to touch, to feel, to keep her as close as he could, was intensifying, making his hands rough as he pushed the vest off her arms. Struggling for a moment, he shrugged out of his own and dropped it off to the side with a clatter.

Free of the thick, cumbersome barriers, he pressed into her again, his mouth moving from hers, down over her jaw, along her neck… She leaned her head back, lips parted and fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. He broke away to pull it over his head and then leaned back in, finding her shoulder bare. Vaguely, he mentally commended her quickness, and then his hands slid up her exposed stomach and thought of any kind was no longer an option.

Her back arched for a moment as she reached behind herself to find the clasp to her bra, and she'd barely managed to slide it off before his lips descended, raiding the sweet dampness that was Carter's breasts. He groaned against her skin, his tongue circling a hard peak. Her back arched again, this time in earnest, her fingers grabbing at his wet hair. She moaned, low in the back of her throat, and the sound reverberated through him.

If that wasn't the sexiest thing he'd ever heard, he'd… well, he wasn't sure what he'd do. But he sure as hell wasn't going to think about it.

His hands didn't bother roaming over her back or tracing the curve of her sides. He'd seem them before, he knew them already – right now they both wanted—no, _needed_—this _fast_. Her belt, identical to his, was easily undone, and the buttons and zipper of her pants were nearly torn apart. She shoved the fabric down, not bothering with the complicated laces of combat boots, while he made short work of his own fly. Calloused fingers hooked in the band of her panties and pulled them away, then strong hands lifted—

Her teeth clamped down on his shoulder as he pushed into her. He hissed, one hand on her breast and the other keeping her steady. She moaned again, loudly, something that might have been a mix of his own name and Daniel's. He barely gave it a moment's notice – this was as much about Daniel as it was about the two of them. It was rough, rushed, and bordering on impersonal. It was a release, not much more, and one they both desperately needed.

The fact that Carter was absolutely beautiful as she came would have to be discarded, and the fact that he never wanted to kiss anyone – touch anyone, _love_ anyone – but her would have to go with it. This wasn't him and Sam. This was just sex. It wasn't about _them_.

It wouldn't leave the room.

They didn't speak as they found their clothes, pulling the soaked garments back on with difficulty. He finished first, leaving his vest undone, and watched as she struggled with her bra, turned away from him. Her back was red, probably from being slammed into the wall so many times, and he winced slightly.

"Here," he muttered, taking the stubborn clasps from her. "I'll get it."

He brushed his hands over her back when he'd finished, offering appeasement from the pain he'd inflicted. She looked around at him, a small smile forming hesitantly on swollen lips. He wanted to kiss those lips, gently this time – kiss away the tears that were still falling down her cheeks, hold her to him until Daniel came back through the door, safe and sound.

He didn't. If they left things where they were, they could ignore the fact that they'd just broken every regulation they'd worked so hard for so many years to uphold. He could ignore that he'd just pinned his second in command to a wall and had his way with her. He could call it a vent, a distraction from the reality that they'd just lost their closest friend, a necessary diversion.

If he kissed her again, he'd never get away with it so easily.

Stepping back to break the moment, he handed her shirt to her wordlessly and averted his eyes as she put it on. She picked up her vest and set it on an open space on one of the tables, then pulled the chair toward her and sat down.

"It'll—" her voice was rough. She cleared her throat, wiping at her eyes again, and started over. "It'll take me a few minutes to make the adjustments, sir." He nodded, and tried not to wince at the title.

Leaning back against one of the walls, he watched her work and tried to think about anything other than the events of the past half hour. On the bright side, he told himself, they hadn't heard any other creatures trying to get into the station. It had also started to thunder, though Jack hadn't decided whether that was a good thing or not yet. Potentially, the lightning might scare the critters back into their pond, or wherever else they hid during the day. He certainly hoped it would.

"There," Carter said, standing. "That should do it, sir. I've started transmitting. The Gate should—"

A burst of sparks cut off the rest of her sentence, and thunder rattled the small room. Her eyes widened. "Lightning! Sir, that could've damaged the transmitters. I have to go outside to check them."

He nodded. "I'll come with."

Outside, it was still pouring. Jack boosted Carter up to the roof and stood guard while she clambered about. "I think it's okay, sir," she called. "Just a second… Okay. I'm coming down."

Jack hardly heard her. Her boots swung down next to him and she dropped the last few feet, then turned around and froze, eyes following the beam of the colonel's light.

"Oh," she said. "Wow. That's… unexpected."


	10. R2's Carter 1

From now on, things are a little different. The chapters still alternate in POVs, and they still belong to the same characters -- but I've decided to title them a bit differently. Hopefully it'll help keep stuff straight. :)

* * *

R2's Carter

Carter was in autopilot.

She'd locked herself down and focussed herself solely on catching up to the group. She'd forced Jack out of her mind, and she'd shut off everything else to block out the sound of his P90 blazing away at something she'd abandoned him to face alone.

She'd abandoned him. Ordered to or not, she knew she'd never be able to live with herself if anything happened to him. So, unable to face that possibility at present, she slammed herself into desperation mode and booted it for the retreating backs of the outpost crew.

She caught them a yard before the trees. They plunged into the undergrowth, missing the path by a ways, and the sound of crashing drowned out everything else.

"Quiet," she called, as softly as she could. "Slow down – the colonel's giving us a distraction. Don't waste it. We can walk—"

"_Don't stop running!_" came a loud shout from behind them. Sam's head snapped around, focus slipping as Jack came bounding through the undergrowth towards them. Bounding – he was okay. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Then, realizing this was exactly why she'd put herself in autopilot, she frowned, shook her head, and sprinted after him, the group in tow.

Apparently far too many minutes later for Cullins' and Jenson's tastes, they slowed. The scientists doubled over as they pulled at last to a stop, coughing and gasping. Jack frowned at the noise but made no comment, instead scanning the perimeter of the small clearing they'd wound up in. There was no movement, thankfully, and he turned back to the group.

"Anyone know where we are?" he asked.

Carter looked around. There were trees, and darkness, and vines, and darkness, and trees—

It was, for all intents and purposes, identical to any other small clearing on the planet. She winced.

Everyone else seemed equally at a loss. They hadn't crossed any of the paths, and figuring out which way the Gate was, let alone the radio station, seemed hopeless.

Then, Dawson, ever the expert tracker, spoke up. "Younge," he said, "What direction did you say the station is?"

"East," the younger lieutenant replied, still slightly breathless. "From the outpost."

Dawson looked up. The sky, still clouded over, gave no glimpse of the stars, and he frowned. "Okay," he said slowly, holding his fingers out like a map before him. "If the Gate's north of the base, and we ran north-west this way…" He paused, then pointed off to Sam's right. "It's that way, colonel."

The colonel's eyebrows rose. "You sure?"

"As sure I can be, sir," Dawson said. He looked considerably _less_ sure than that, Sam thought, but didn't comment.

"Okay," Jack said, sounding slightly sceptical but willing to take the only help they had. "Lead the way, lieutenant. And remind me to take you along next time I go hiking…"

* * *

Sam wasn't sure whether or not they'd taken a wrong turn, or had just run in completely the opposite direction of where they were headed, but it seemed to take hours to reach the radio station. By the time they finally had, she'd worked through all the necessary adjustments in her head, and it was a matter of minutes to make them. Thunder boomed outside as she stood from her chair to tell the colonel she was done, and sparks exploded in the room. She ducked, throwing herself to the ground, out of the way.

"Carter!" Jack's voice called from outside. "Hey! You okay? What was that?"

"Lightning," she called back, rolling first onto her side and then pushing herself to her feet with a wince. "I'm going to have to check the transmitter, sir. Make sure nothing was damaged."

His response, coming from the other side of the station, was muddled by the rain drumming on the roof, but decidedly affirmative. She stepped out the door and raised her light, shining it on the roof. She couldn't see enough, not from this angle. She backed up—

The building seemed to blink, so quickly she thought she might've imagined it, and then there were two figures standing where, just a millisecond ago, there'd been no one. She stared. That couldn't be…

It was. Major Samantha Carter stared wide-eyed at Major Samantha Carter.

"Oh," said her clone. "Wow. That's… unexpected."

"You're telling me!" she rebuffed, eyeing the familiar body. Yep, definitely her. "What happened?"

"You think I know more than you do?"

She opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by Colonel O'Neill appearing out of thin air behind her. He stumbled, barely managing to avoid walking into her, and took in the situation.

"Holy _crap_," he said emphatically.

"No shit," the other Jack remarked dryly.

"Ha," said the colonel. "Funny." Turning from his clone to the Carter beside him, he pointed at the two copies. "Carter," he said deliberately. "What's going on?"

The clone stepped forward quickly. "An interdimensional subspace rift," she volunteered.

Carter considered for a moment. "Could be," she agreed, approaching the copy cautiously. "You're transmitting to the Gate?" The copy nodded. "Lightning struck your transmitter?" She nodded again. "It's possible. It's a direct violation of cosmic censorship, but… If lightning struck in both realities at exactly the same time—"

"And there's no reason it wouldn't," the copy put in.

"It could've—"

"—boosted the signal enough to form a rift—"

"—and jump it to here," Carter concluded, now within two feet of her double. The two of them blinked, and looked towards their colonels. Both Jacks made don't-look-at-me faces.

"—nel O'Neill?" Another figure stumbled into existence. The other Jack's light swung around, illuminating Cullins. He raised a hand to shield himself from the light. "What the—?"

The colonel lowered his light. "No kidding," he muttered. "Ask those two." He motioned with his light at the two identical majors, who looked from him, to each other, and then to the confused doctor. The copy's face froze.

"Cullins?" she questioned, taking a step toward him. She looked over her shoulder at Sam. "You mean, in your reality, he's not—" She shook her head. "Of course. I mean, why not?"

Carter's eyes narrowed slightly. What was that expression? Was that hope? Why was she hopeful? Obviously, the Cullins in her dimension had been killed, but who else had to make her watch the patch of space he'd come from so closely?

A fourth figure crossed the rift, and was treated to the same welcome of blinding lights as Cullins. Dawson grimaced, squinting. "Where'd you go—" he began, then caught sight of the duplicate faces around him. "Whoa."

Younge appeared, bumping into the older lieutenant. "Christ," he exclaimed, "Sorry, Dawson. I didn't see—" The kid's mouth fell open. "Colonel O'Neill?" he questioned, looking from one to the other.

"—be kidding me," groaned another voice. Jenson, appearing behind Younge, paused. Cautiously, he eyed the crowd staring back at him. "I thought I lost you all. I guess I found you. More of you…"

"Hey," said a final voice, "Guys, where are—oh. Wait. Sam?"

Carter looked from Daniel to her double. The woman's mouth had fallen open and her eyes were wide. Were those tears, or was it just the rain?

Her stomach lurched. _Daniel_ had died. It had to be. Why else would she react like that? Oh god. The thought of Daniel dying—

The copy threw her arms around him, seizing him in a crushing bear hug. Daniel staggered back half a step, surprised, and patted her back awkwardly. "Hey," Sam heard him say over the noise of the rain, "Hey, it's okay. What's wrong?" He looked up, finding first the other Jack, who looked almost as stricken as Sam's copy, then herself. He squinted, as if not quite believing his eyes were telling him the truth, then pulled Carter off him. "You're not… _my_ Sam, are you?"

Wordlessly, or at least, Sam thought it was wordlessly, the double shook her head.

The other colonel spoke up, clearing his throat with difficulty that was probably only obvious to her. And her twin, and… well, himself. She shook her head. It was as weird as having _Samantha_ around again. "Is that… all of you?" he asked.

"Yeah," Sam's Jack replied shortly. He glanced between the copy Carter and his own double. "This all of you?"

"No," the double said. "We left the others back home." He looked around at the seven familiar faces. "Well, this is weird. What are we going to do about it?"

Carter glanced at herself. "Well," they said together, "nothing, sir."

They glanced at each other again. "Don't do that," Sam warned. Carter opened her mouth to rebuke, but was cut off by the colonel.

"Ladies," he said, holding up a hand. "La_dy_. Please. We've already had this whole 'arguing geniuses' thing going on. Let's just… deal with the situation."

"Yes, sir," they agreed in tandem, then shot brief glares at each other.

Sam managed to speak first. "Sir," she said, "there really isn't any reason for us to stay in this reality. As far as I can tell—" she broke off, eyes falling on Daniel, "Well, it's nearly the same as our own. I think we're both here for the same reason. We can just go back, get to the Gate, and go home."

The copy stepped a bit closer. "Wait. Have you checked your transmitter for damage yet?"

Carter shook her head. "No. We will. It shouldn't be any different from yours, though."

As it turned out, it was different. Wonderful thing, probability. The lightning might have struck the same place, but the probability that it had _exactly_ the same voltage was minimal, and consequently, the probability that it had taken _exactly_ the same route through the radio station was minimal. And so, consequently, Carter's transmitter was broken.

"_Dammit!_" she swore, slapping the roof. "Sir," she called down, "It's broken."

"Oh," he called back up. "Can you fix it?"

"Not in the pouring rain, sir," she replied, shimmying down the slick metal. "I'm coming down." She let herself slide, hanging by her hands for a moment before dropping the remaining foot to the ground. She shook her head and then pushed her hair off her forehead. "It's burned out. I'd have to replace most of the wiring – there isn't time, or equipment."

"So… we're stuck?"

She wrinkled her nose slightly. "Not exactly. We could use the other reality's Gate, sir."

"To get back to our own SGC?" he questioned.

"No. But we could stay in theirs until the night ends."

He grimaced. "Didn't that… thing happen to the other Carter when she tried to stay with us, a few years back?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir. But as far as I know, she didn't start to feel the effects until at least a week after she arrived. We'd only be there three or four days. We _should_ be okay."

The colonel still seemed sceptical. "What if the rift closes?"

She hesitated. "We'd be stuck, unless we could figure out a way to open it again. We'd have to recreate the circumstances exactly… it'd be almost impossible. But then, the subspace fabric might be more prone to tearing in the same place again… it's hard to say, sir. But the rift has stayed stable this long—" She froze.

What if it _hadn't_ stayed open? The others were still on the other side.

They dashed back along the path. "Where was it?" Jack asked, light raking the surroundings.

"It should be," Carter said slowly, walking with her arm outstretched, "somewhere around here…"

The end of her hand disappeared. She jerked it back. "Found it," she reported, unsettled. "So, like I was saying, if it's stayed stable this long, the odds that it'll move or close are… almost non-existent."

He eyed her speculatively. "I'm not gonna ask why. Is it worth the risk?"

She hesitated, but only for a moment. "I'd say so, yes, sir."

"Alright," he said. "Shall we, then, Alice?"

He offered his arm and she took it gamely, smiling despite herself and the whole crazy situation.

Together, they stepped through the rift.

It didn't feel like much. Other than the fact that the small group of people they were now faced with hadn't been there a second ago, it felt just like taking any other step. That, of course, made sense.

Thankfully. Because dealing with _herself_, and two Colonel O'Neills, would probably drive her nuts anyway. Within the hour.

"It's broken?" her copy asked. She nodded.

"We're stuck with you," the colonel said, clapping his twin on the back.

They both winced. Jack shook out his hand, moving away and shuddering a bit. "Too weird," Carter heard him mutter.

"Guys?" spoke up Daniel. "Don't you think we should get moving? That station's running off solar batteries, isn't it?"

The other colonel rolled his eyes. "And we all know how long _those_ last…"

His Carter looked like she was torn between snickering and frowning. No one else seemed to have the faintest clue how long solar batteries lasted.

They got underway, forming a short line, one or two people wide. The Jack that belonged to this reality took point, followed by Dawson and Cullins, then Younge, then Carter – who had ended up next to her double – then Daniel, and then Jack. The rain was still pouring down, the noise of it overshadowing their footsteps. Lightning flashed occasionally, followed by booming thunder. There was no sign of the creatures.

Their confidence boosted, the some of the group talked quietly amongst themselves. Sam's copy looked over at her.

"I was thinking," she said slowly. Sam repressed the snide remark that sprung to mind in the colonel's voice. "Our realities must've diverged from each other fairly recently, since most of the details are consistent. I've been wondering what the diverging point was."

Carter shrugged. "You know as well as I do that it could've been one of a billion things. I might not even have been something that happened to us."

"True," the copy agreed, "but we _have_ noticed some differences. Something has to have happened differently. It'd be interesting to find out what."

"Well," she replied, "for one, Daniel."

Her double looked down at her feet, sloshing through the mud. "Yeah," she agreed. "And your Larson, and Carey, and Neil. You've lost so many…"

"And Higgs," added Sam. She paused a moment before asking, "How many have you… lost?"

"Three," the double replied. "Higgs, Cullins, and Daniel." Sam watched the familiar twitch of her brow as she tried to keep her face neutral. The woman shook her head, pressing a hand to her forehead and then smoothing her hair back. "You can't imagine what it's like," she said softly. "Like mom, but… so different. I've never lost a best friend before."

Ignoring the shiver that ran through her, Sam touched her counterpart's arm. "No, neither have I," she told her. "I'm… sorry you had to."

"Yeah," she murmured.

For a long time, they walked in silence, watching the jungle around them and the path before them. The lightning was picking up again, sending thunder resounding through the trees. Carter felt her chest cavity thrum as a clap sounded right overhead. Amazing things, thunderstorms, and this one seemed to be driving the creatures away.

As far as she was concerned it could thunder away for the rest of the night.

The remainder of the hike was blissfully uneventful. The mud slowing their progress, they reached the outpost in just under an hour and a half.

Flashlights flicked on as they approached the door. The Jack belonging to this reality paused and held up a hand. "We've had creatures in here before," he told them, voice low. "They broke through our bunkroom wall."

"So there may be more in there," Carter's Jack concluded.

The other colonel nodded. "The others are hiding out in the infirmary. We'll head there. Everybody ready?"

No one replied.

"Okay then," he said, sounding falsely chipper. "In we go."

He motioned his Carter up and she pulled the door back while he stood ready, gun aimed into the opening. He stepped forward carefully, flanked by the major, the two lights scanning back and forth. He gestured over his shoulder, and the rest of them moved in.

Inside, the lights of the group's six P90s reflected off the walls, erratically lighting the dark hallway. Along one of the walls, there were deep scratches, and there were several large dark smears on the floor. Blood. Who had died here?

The first door was the mess hall, coming up on the right. It was a dark hole, forbidding and deathly. She hoped they wouldn't have to check it out, but knowing the colonel, if there was a creature in the base, they'd have to at least take a look, to avoid risking exposing their flank.

So, when he spun quickly, his light knifing into the darkness, she wasn't surprised. When a piercing screech came back at him, though, accompanied by a black, gleaming shadow, she felt adrenaline pound through her. All the guns available opened fire, catching the thing in its barrelled chest and neck. The force of the bullets sent it stumbling sideways, into a doorframe. Another screech echoed out of the mess hall and before Carter could even begin a mental complaint at the thought of a second creature, it had shot forward, appearing briefly and then sinking slender teeth into the short throat of the first. The group stared, taken aback, as the creature retreated, a larger meal than any of them clutched in its jaws.

"Always a bigger fish," muttered someone.

"Infirmary's this way, people," said the colonel, bringing their attention back to their goal. The door was just another few feet ahead on their left. It was closed. Heavily dented, with a gouge deep enough to let light through, but closed.

Light?

Carter's heart leapt. Light meant humans, and life, and maybe a brief moment of safety before they made the mad dash to the Gate, which would hopefully work. If it didn't, of course, it would be on her, and she'd have to fix it—

Well, really, it'd be on the _other_ her. Not that she'd try that hard to skirt the blame, but still, the thought was mildly reassuring.

One of the Jack's – Carter had lost track of which – knocked on the door. Probably the one from this reality, she reasoned, otherwise he wouldn't know to—

The door opened a crack, then the rest of the way. Larson's shoulders sagged in relief. "Colonel O'Neill," he sighed. "You have _no_ idea how good it is to see you." The dead man's gaze moved past the first colonel. "Both of you…?" he questioned slowly.

Jack gave him a small push aside and stepped into the room, making room for the rest of them. The occupants of the room – Carey, Neil, Jenson, Larson, and Dawson, sitting up in a bed – gaped at the visitors.

"What the _hell?_" demanded Carey. "Who're you?"

"Him," Carter's Jack said, pointing at his twin. "And she's—" he pointed at Carter, "her." He indicated the other Carter.

Carefully, Daniel raised his hand. "I'm… not actually your Daniel," he said. The other Jack and Carter visibly flinched. "He uh… well, to be honest I'm not exactly sure what happened to him. But…"

"He didn't make it," Jack's double said shortly. His group fell silent. Carter looked at them, the familiar faces. Carey, alive, and Larson, and Neil…

Neil was staring at Cullins, her face ashen. Another story there, Carter guessed. Her counterpart hadn't mentioned how anyone here had died. Who knew? Maybe there'd been some sort of accident.

"Did you get it working, ma'am?" Younge asked, face hopeful.

The other Carter nodded. "It's transmitting. We haven't checked the Gate."

"But we're going to," said the other colonel, "right now. Grab your gear, kids. Let's go home."

They crept by the mess hall door, lights off, ears full of the sound of bones crunching and flesh tearing. Carter's stomach twisted slightly, and ahead of her, she saw Neil gag. They were unchallenged in the yard, and on the path. The storm was beginning to ease, and they moved quickly, not wanting to be around when the lightning stopped all together.

Far too many minutes for Carter's taste later, they were in the Gate's clearing. They jogged across it and her counterpart stretched out a hand to the DHD. Sam saw her pause, watched her take a quick, deep breath, and press the first key. It glowed. The second key glowed too. And the third. The fourth.

They all worked.

The Gate thumped and whirred to life. Brilliant blue event horizon splashed forward and bounced back, the naqahdah tethering its edges. At the moment, Carter couldn't recall ever being so glad wormhole physics worked.

Things seemed to blur. Someone dialled an IDC. They all bounded up the steps – well, one Dawson was carried – and leapt through the Gate. Carter and her twin paused for a moment with the two colonels, looking back at the dark planet. Something moved in the trees off on the edge of the clearing and the four of them stepped through after the rest of the group.

For just over six seconds, there was a whirlwind.

Then, Sam stepped down the familiar ramp, eyes squinted in the fluorescent light that had never seemed so friendly, and shook off the nightmare.


	11. R1's Jack 1

Thanks to my lovely new beta, beautiful-babee. :)

* * *

R1's Jack

Dr. Fraiser, naturally, had a field day when two sets of the outpost team walked through her door. Jack was thankful for the size of the group, which would hopefully keep him from being _too_ prodded or needled. They were all ushered to their separate beds and curtained off from each other. Jack flopped onto his, never so glad of the lumpy hospital mattress, and waited for his turn with the doctor.

A nurse poked her head around the curtain and asked him politely to disrobe, handing him a medical gown. He pulled a face, but took it and did as she asked, starting with his shirt and wincing at the sight of his muddy body. Next door, as he struggled to pry his soaked boots off, he heard the nurse asking Carter to do the same thing. He paused, listening to the rustle as the major took the gown. There was a moment of silence – she was probably debating whether or not to put it on. It was unavoidable, though, and she knew it; whether or not she did it now, she _would_ be taking those clothes off, and Doc Fraiser _would_ be examining her.

The curtain shifted and Jack turned, finding Carter standing in his section, looking small with her hair plastered to her mud-splattered face and the bluish gown in her hand. He stood, tugging his pants up a bit, and tried to ignore that he was shirtless.

Her eyes flitted down, over his chest, and lingered for a moment on the faintly red half-circle on his shoulder, a reminder of where her teeth had been. She pinked a bit around the edges, but mostly just looked tired. "Sorry, sir," she said softly.

He took a step toward her instinctively, every nerve in his body telling him to comfort her. She took a step back, and he stopped. Right. "It's…" she stumbled, "It's still in the room, right, sir?"

For crying out _loud_.

He wanted to take the two steps across the tiny space and seize her, pull her into a tight hug and whisper her name in her ear. He wanted to stroke her hair away from her face and tell her it would never be in the room again. He wanted to tell her he was sorry, for Daniel, for fighting with her, for slamming her into the wall and getting them into this mess.

He didn't.

He just nodded, trying desperately to keep all the things he wanted to do off his face.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, Carter. It's still in the room."

She nodded back, her mouth pressed tightly into a line. In the bright lights, he could see the small mark, just beneath her lower lip, where he'd bitten her. There were probably scratches hidden beneath that jacket, too, and her back had to be a mess of bruises.

Janet would know.

Would she tell? He didn't know. For Carter's sake, more than his own, he hoped not.

She turned to go.

"Carter," he called softly after her. She stopped, looking back with eyes that were obviously fighting off tears. "I'm sorry," he offered, with all the sincerity he felt.

She ducked her head and smiled slightly. "I'm not," she whispered. "Sir."

* * *

Even before it began, Jack knew the debriefing would be painfully long. They'd all been given time to shower and change, and now, just over two hours after they'd finally gotten home, everyone was beginning to assemble in the briefing room.

They filled the table. By unspoken agreement, Jack's reality took one half, and the visitors took the other. The guards standing dutifully by the exits had looked vaguely startled upon the entrance of the duplicates, but were clearly well accustomed to _all_ the oddities that came through the Gate.

Jack looked down his row. It felt so empty without Daniel; just him and Carter and then the rest of them. He hadn't seen Teal'c yet, having been ushered straight from the infirmary's showers to here, and was sorely missing the Jaffa's solid presence. Carter, next to him, was just as silent as the rest. His reality's Dawson was the only person to have made it back who was missing, Fraiser's claim staked over him for a while longer.

As Hammond entered, O'Neill, Carter, Carey, Younge, and the doubles stood. The general motioned them back into their seats.

"Doctor Fraiser will be joining us shortly," he informed them. "For now, let's…" he looked around at the identical sets of faces gazing back at him, "Start at the beginning, shall we?"

They did. Jack's side went first, going over the construction of the outpost and some of the discoveries they'd made. Hammond shooed them onwards, saying the finer points of their research would be discussed in their reports and further debriefings. Jenson nodded, looking surprisingly unmiffed.

Carter's encounter in the pond – at least, how she came to _be_ in the pond – was glazed over to her walking too close to the edge and a playful nudge that sent her in. Hammond's brow rose at that, but, well accustomed to the team's antics, he didn't interrupt. He did, however, inquire after her leg, and Fraiser, who was just coming through the door, assured him that it was healing well. She pulled a chair over and seated herself at the end of Jack's side of the table, giving Carter a brief smile.

_What did that mean?_ wondered Jack. Was it a tacit confirmation that she wouldn't say anything about the other _injuries_ she'd found on his second? Or was it just a friendly acknowledgement, natural after discussing her?

He didn't have much time to think about it. They were back into describing the leg they'd found, and the sedative properties of the bite. Hammond motioned a guard over and sent for a 'Dr. Matheson', a name that sounded faintly familiar to Jack but that he couldn't place with a face or job. While they waited for the mystery doctor, they went over the decisions they'd come to, based off the leg, and the fortifications they'd made on the outpost. There was the night guard duty and the encounter, and then the shooting range, the attack, and the accident.

Matheson arrived as they recounted their attempt to make the contact time. He was a small, balding man, with dark-rimmed glasses and a dark black suit. "He's our resident expert on…" Hammond hesitated.

"Xenopredatory species," Matheson supplied. "Alien predators."

Both Jacks' eyebrows shot up. "We have an expert on that?"

Matheson adjusted his glasses. "We have experts on quite a few things, colonel," he replied tightly, pulling up another chair to the already small remaining space at the table. "Now, tell me about this monster of yours."

The structured retelling of their stay on P49-151 fell apart as individuals from both realities volunteered details of the creatures' behaviour. The photophobia was mentioned, along with the pond, the sedative venom, the solitary attacks, the amphibianism, along with just about every other thing they could think of. Matheson, unperturbed by the barrage of information, took notes, black pen scribbling away madly. When the collective memory of the outpost crews was finally exhausted, the doctor requested a moment to extrapolate, wrote a few more lines, and then looked up at the general.

"Sir," he said. "We need to send a team back to that planet."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" Jack nearly shouted, leaning forward on the table to fix the doctor with a glare. "In case you didn't hear, those things are _dangerous_! I am _not_ sending my team – what's _left_ of my team – back there!"

"Colonel O'Neill," called Hammond. "Please. We understand that you've all been through a lot these past few days, but give the man a chance to explain himself."

Matheson, still unperturbed, nodded his appreciation to the general. "It's my understanding that when any of you were present to witness an attack, the creatures attempted to or succeeded in dragging the victim away, still living. This is correct?"

There were small nods all around the table.

"Except Higgs," Jack pointed out loudly. "He got eaten right then and there."

Carey and the other Dawson and Cullins flinched, but Matheson didn't even blink. "Potentially, yes," he agreed. "Though it's my understanding that you didn't find a complete body."

"Uh, _no_," said Jack. "It's _my _understanding that he got _eaten_."

"Colonel," Hammond spoke up sharply. Grudgingly, Jack relented.

"So," Matheson continued, "if we couple the generally non-lethal attacks with the sedative nature of the venom, we come to the conclusion that some of the people taken by the creatures may still be alive."

There was a moment of stunned silence around the table. Jack glanced over at Carter. She was staring at Matheson, repressed hope written all over her face.

"And so," the doctor elaborated, "it's my opinion that a team should return to the planet and check. I understand you found a lair of sorts?" He looked toward the other outpost crew. They nodded. "That would be a good place to begin the search."

The people that were to return were chosen quickly. There would be two teams, one for this reality and one for the other. Jack would lead the first team. With him, he had Teal'c and Carey – Matheson suspected the reason the creatures had seemed to go after Carter more than the others was the cut on her leg, which had reopened at some point. The second team consisted of the other Jack, the other Carter, and the other Dawson.

They assembled in the Gate room, a mass of familiar faces. Jack looked around at his team, all in black BDU's. Teal'c was staring at the doubles, one eyebrow raised. Carey was standing with the other Cullins, her hand on his arm, talking quietly. Jack caught sight of a Carter in blue, saying something to her counterpart in black. They finished whatever it was they were discussing, nodding, and the blue gave the black a solid pat on the shoulder, probably accompanied by a 'good luck.' She glanced over at him and he waved her over.

"You're my Carter, right?" he joked as she approached. She laughed, a bit feebly, and he realized the double-entendre behind his words. "Uh," he said. "Yeah. So. Ready?" He hooked his fingers in his vest and tried to look enthused.

"To stay behind?" she questioned, not looking at all ready. "I wish I could go with you, sir."

"I know," he said. "But you're bleeding. They'll eat you. And we don't want that." He grinned, trying to keep the mood light. He didn't want to think about Daniel – if he did, he'd hope, and if he hoped, he'd almost certainly be disappointed.

He also simply refused to get her hopes up. He half wanted to, just to see that excited smile for a while, but the thought of her reaction to losing Daniel _again_, and for good, kept him from saying anything. She probably wouldn't smile – _really_ smile – much, not for a while, unless he came back down that ramp with Daniel in tow.

It was a good incentive.

But he wasn't going to get his hopes up.

No, he wasn't.

"I…" Carter said, then broke off. She sighed slightly, meeting his eyes. "Find him, sir. Whether he's alive, or…" Dead. "Just find him."

He nodded. "I will, Carter," he promised.

The sound of his own voice cut off anything else he might've said, and he turned to see his double giving Hammond a salute. Hammond smiled and said something Jack didn't quite catch, then nodded towards the black BDU Carter. She stepped forward, along with Dawson.

"Colonel?" Hammond called, looking past the small group to where Jack stood.

"General," Jack called back, with a broad, albeit forced, smile.

"Are you and your team ready to depart?" the general asked.

Jack looked from Teal'c to Carey. They nodded. "Yes, sir," he reported, stepping onto the ramp. "We cleared to go?"

"You are," Hammond confirmed. "Be careful, all of you. Godspeed."

Jack turned, catching a last glimpse of his blue-suited Carter, standing at the foot of the ramp with her arms folded protectively beneath her chest. Then, seven steps away from her, it was into the puddle and back to the nightmare.


	12. R2's Carter 2

Thanks again to awesomesauce beta, beautiful-babee. :)

* * *

R2's Carter

It had been a long time since Carter had dreaded stepping out of the wormhole this much. When the whirling blue vanished, giving way to blackness pierced only by six P90 beams, she stamped with practiced mental feet on her dread, fear, and anxiety, stuffed them all into one cramped box, and tossed it away, as far as she could.

Less than a second later, that done, she scanned the surroundings with her light.

"Clear," she, Colonel O'Neill, and the other Colonel O'Neill reported at the same time. They glanced at each other.

"I'm guessing that radio signal's still going," her Jack said. She nodded.

"Okay," the other Jack spoke up. "So, no communication. We'll head to the cave. You get moving back to the rift. We'll meet you back at the SGC. Our SGC," he added.

"Right," said the colonel. "Carter? You know the way."

"Yes, sir," she agreed. "We'll take the east path. Let's go."

They had geared up lightly, but effectively. Several spare flashlights were clipped to each of their vests, along with a small, battery-operated lantern, in case they needed light everywhere, not just in a focussed beam. They had their knives, their side arms, and a few flares, but little else. Carter's and Dawson's packs had first aid supplies, for the fairly likely event of injuries. The brief visit home (or close to it), coupled with the fresh gear, sent them off into the jungle feeling as confident as could be, given the situation.

"We have four hours," said the colonel. "That's to get to the rift, to the cave, back to the rift, and then back to the Gate. Everyone feeling up for a jog?"

Obviously, no one was, but they jogged anyway. The ground was muddy, though the rain had stopped. The meal they'd wolfed down after the briefing had boosted their energy, but Carter knew everyone was looking forward to crashing in a real bed; none of them had gotten a solid night's sleep in far too long. At least the desire to get back would help keep them going.

Then again, she reasoned vaguely, barely noticing a root in time to avoid tripping, there was also the desire to get their friends back…

For the sake of the other Sam, and the other Jack, Carter hoped their team found their Daniel. For herself, she knew Larson and Neil were dead, but finding Carey and Higgs would be very welcome. What would also be very welcome was not getting eaten, she reflected, her eyes flitting sideways as somewhere not too far off, a twig cracked.

Carter's pack wasn't heavy, but it was still there, and it made running that much more tiring. It would be at least twenty minutes to the radio station – a feasible distance. They would have to rest there for at least a few minutes, but for now, a glance around at the team told her they were good to continue.

The rift, when they reached it twenty-six minutes later, was right where they'd left it. When the end of her gun vanished, Carter waved the others over, and they stepped through as a group. The other side looked just like the first.

"We sure we're actually in our own reality?" Dawson questioned, peering around.

"Look," said Carter, slightly breathless, pointing at where they'd come from. "No footprints."

Dawson shrugged. "Okay. Running again, colonel?"

"Let's walk for a few," Jack said. "We made pretty good time getting here."

There were agreeable nods all around. Their pace was still quick, but walking again was a relief. The way to the cave would be shorter than it had been from the Gate, though not by more than fifteen or twenty minutes. Still, Carter thought with a glance at the dark trees ahead, she'd take it.

After what had to be at least ten minutes of silence, the colonel gave Carter a slight nudge. "Jogging," he said quietly. "Dawson?"

"Yessir," came the response, a few feet behind.

Sam was still in point. Had the idea of running through a pitch black jungle filled with monsters not been so thoroughly unappealing, the fact that the colonel still didn't know the way would've been almost funny. They _had_ lived there for a while – a _long_ while, as he'd complained on numerous occasions. He really hadn't had much to do, she guessed, and had probably made a deliberate effort to be as unhelpful as possible. Childish, yes. But also a potentially successful method to get them recalled.

Then again, it hadn't worked. They were still here. And Carter was still stuck with leading the way.

Not that she'd complain, obviously. It wasn't _that _bad.

A long screech split the still air and Carter briefly contemplated taking that last thought back. The group froze, guns scanning the trees. Nothing. No movement. There was another screech, maybe from the same creature, maybe from another. They were off to the left, and nearby. A grating hiss filtered through to them, followed by a warbled howl and a low thud. There was a final scream, sounding distinctly like a protest, then a crunch.

Jack caught the eyes of the other two. He motioned ahead silently and moved behind Dawson, taking the rear guard as they moved on. Carter kept half her mind on her breathing, keeping it quiet and level, despite the exercise. The other half of her watched the trees, eyes and ears wide open. Faint sounds of crunching were still drifting by them, accompanied by the occasional sickening rip of tearing flesh. Either the creatures were still cannibalizing each other, or something else had been unfortunate enough to get caught.

Or, the creatures had decided they'd had enough of saving their human snacks for later.

Carter clamped her teeth together, fighting the painful twist of her stomach. No, she told herself firmly. Those cries weren't human. _It wasn't one of ours._

An image of Carey's young face flashed into Carter's mind. She shook her head slightly. No. It wasn't human. Smears of the other Higgs' blood on the walls in the outpost. Neil's mangled skeleton. Larson's screams.

No. Not human. Forcing her thoughts back to the present, she shook her head again. Whatever had just gotten eaten might not have been human, but _she_ was, and if she let herself get distracted, she might be the next thing to go.

They kept moving. Carter took a quick glance at her watch. Two hours, forty-two minutes left. She stared hard at their surroundings. In the dark, everything looked different. The path was narrow here, overgrown and little-used. But… wasn't this where she'd been sample gathering on Monday? Or was there another rock like that? She frowned. Were they close? According to her watch, they should be.

There. That moss, dangling from a vine. She knew where she was.

She looked over her shoulder, slowing her pace. She indicated a barely-noticeable second path, forking off to the right, mouthing a 'this is it'. The colonel nodded.

Sam did her best to ignore the sweat tickling her forehead, gluing her hair to her skin. They'd discarded their jackets halfway to the transmitting station, but even in their tank tops, the heat was more than uncomfortable. Add to that the stress, the constant anxiety, the exercise…

The dark water of the pond, when they came to it, almost looked inviting.

From there, it was easy to retrace their steps to the cave. The bones scattered around outside were still there, gleaming white in the light of their guns. They paused outside, a few yards away.

"Flare," came Colonel O'Neill's voice. "Watch your eyes."

And then the world was filled with blinding red light. Well-trained enough to have shielded her eyes, Carter heard rather than saw him toss the flare into the cave. Carefully, she looked up, squinting, in time to see the light bounce once and roll, casting the rocks in stark shadows. A sharp scream echoed out to them, and a dark shape shot out of the light. Ready, three practiced P90s opened fire, and the creature crumpled, its momentum skidding it through the mud.

The team moved forward. "Flare," the colonel warned again, and dropped another red light outside the cave's mouth. "Let's go."

They passed the area where they'd found Neil and Larson, now empty. A short ways ahead, what might have been part of a skull lay shattered on the ground. Then, just a little farther, a leg protruded from behind a boulder. Carter's breath caught.

It was Higgs. He was roughly facedown, heaped into a careless pile of limbs and clothing and blood. Dawson crouched quickly, fingers somehow finding his neck, searching for a pulse. Carter watched for a beat, then turned, checking the rest of the cave. No movement, not as far as she could see, anyhow. It faded into blackness again, further down…

She cracked open another flare and tossed it into the dark. Thankfully, nothing came screaming out at them, but there was something there. She frowned, trying to make it out.

"Sir," she said, glancing over at Jack quickly. "There. Look."

"Carey?" he questioned.

"Can't tell, sir. Check it out?"

"Go. I'll keep watch."

She went. The form was definitely human, she saw as she got closer. Dread spread, cold, up from her stomach, gripping at her lungs. Carey. It had to be Carey. And that dark stain, pooling on the ground and covering her pants, had to be blood. No, no, no, no. Not another one. _Matheson said they'd be alive…_

As it turned out, she was. As Carter knelt next to her, turning her over with a careful hand on her shoulder, the lieutenant exploded into life. Her eyes shot open and she curled in on herself, screaming. Carter jerked back, adrenaline pounding. Had she hurt her? Was this her fault?

And then she saw where all the blood was coming from. The woman's right arm was torn, a mangled mess of skin and muscle and bone. _Not_ good. First aid pack or not, there was nothing she could do for an arm like that.

Carter swallowed hard and leaned back in, taking hold of Carey's face. "It's okay," she told her, as solidly as she could. "It's okay. Carey? We're going to get you home."

Somehow, Carey's eyes focussed on hers. Her mouth closed, teeth grinding together, her breath short and ragged. She nodded.

"Good," said Carter. She looked briefly over her shoulder. "Colonel?" she called, her hands still on the lieutenant's face.

Jack was already halfway there. She didn't miss the slight twitch of his brow at the sight of Carey, and knew he was far too well-trained to let a full wince show. "In my bag, sir," Carter said. "There's a syringe. Morphine. And a tourniquet."

She felt him unzip it, tugging at her back. He rummaged around for a moment, far too long in her mind, before she heard the distinctive crinkling of foil and plastic. "Here," he said. "Carter."

She reached over her shoulder and took it from him as he slipped it out of its protective bag. Tugging off the lid, she swabbed uselessly at the grubby skin of Carey's good arm, probed for the vein, and slipped the needle in. Emptied, she drew it out and tossed it away, then reached for the tourniquet Jack was holding out.

"Okay?" the colonel questioned, looking at Carey.

The lieutenant nodded. "Yes, sir," she ground out, flinching when Carter approached her shoulder with the band of white cloth.

"Good," said Jack. He tapped Carter's shoulder as she tied the finishing knot on the tourniquet, motioning her to her feet. "Our flares are burning out," he told her quietly. "We have to go. Can you move her?"

Carter's eyes flicked between his and Carey, still curled up on the ground. "Can we set out more?"

"We've already drawn too much attention to ourselves," he said. "We need to get out of here."

Carter grimaced. "Yes, sir. How's Higgs?"

"Conscious," the colonel replied. "Not too bad. Got a bit of a bite on his leg, but he'll walk. C'mon, let's get her up."

Crouching down again, Carter tapped the lieutenant's good shoulder lightly. "Carey? We have to get going. I need you to try to stand. Think you can?"

"Yes, ma'am," she said tightly.

"Good," said Carter. "Here. I'll give you a boost up."

Carefully, she lifted the uninjured arm over her shoulders, then slipped her own hand around the woman's stomach. "Okay," she said. "Ready? On two. One…"

"_Two_," Carey moaned, hauled up to her feet. "_Jesus…_"

Carter felt fingers clench, grappling at her collarbone, nails digging in. Blood dripped ominously from the wound, splashing into the small pool left behind on the ground.

"Okay," she said again, steadying herself almost as much as Carey. "Okay. We're up. Still with me?"

Carey's head was lolling a bit, but she managed to look up at the major. "Yes, ma'am," she said. "Thanks."

Ahead of them, Higgs was getting to his feet. He shifted his weight to his bitten leg experimentally and Sam saw him wince. Standing slightly more on his uninjured left, he turned at the two women's approach.

"Carey?" he questioned. "You hanging in there?"

She raised her head at the sound of his voice. "Sir," she said through grinding teeth, mustering a smile. "You're alive."

"You look like death though," he joked, giving the arm she had around Carter a light nudge. "You stay with us, got it?"

"Yes, sir," she managed. As he turned away to face Colonel O'Neill, Carey's head dropped back down. Carter gave her hand a small squeeze.

"Colonel," Higgs was asking. Jack was near the cave entrance, his gun raised, peering out into the dark. "Where exactly _are_ we going?"

"Back to the SGC," the colonel replied.

"Not our SGC, though," put in Dawson.

"What—?" Higgs began to question, but was cut off by Jack's hand.

"_Long_ story," he said. "We'll explain when we get there. Now, we have to get out of _here_."

They moved slowly, hesitant to leave the dwindling safety of the flares. Higgs limped slightly, Carey was having a hard time staying conscious, and both were covered in enough blood to attract every creature in five miles. Making it to the rift would be a miracle.

Making it back to the Gate would be next to impossible.

And as much as Carter hated to even allow the thought into her mind, there was no way Carey was going to manage. She would be unconscious or worse within an hour, and carrying someone would slow them down more than they already were.

She caught a glimpse of the lieutenant's blood-streaked face, eyes half-closed and tufts of reddish hair dangling limply. She was… twenty-seven?

Too young to die.

This was, she supposed, why they had a policy that no one got left behind.

Dawson approaching brought her out of the guilt that had been creeping up from her belly. "The colonel wants you up on point again," he said. "I'll take her."

Carter nodded and delicately unhooked Carey's arm from her neck. Handing her off to her teammate, she jogged ahead a few steps to where the colonel was walking. "Sir?"

"Carter," he greeted her. "We're not climbing up to that outcropping. You know a way around it?"

"Yes, sir," she said. They were coming out onto the beach. "That way."

It wasn't much longer than climbing. They hobbled their way through a bit of uphill undergrowth, and then emerged onto the rocks overlooking the pond. Waiting for them, by the edge of the jungle, was a large, dark shadow.

They froze. It crept forward, snorting faintly at the smell of the blood. It paused, staring at them and seeming to contemplate the lights they held, still off to the sides. Another snort broke the spell.

Carter's and Jack's P90s snapped up, blazing white light into the thing's face. It howled, raising a dagger-like foreleg and twisting. Then, with no warning and untrackable speed, it shot forward blindly. Mind registering that it had to be making a panicked try for the safety of the pond, Carter started sideways, out of the way.

She wasn't fast enough.

A slime-covered shoulder crashed into her chest, sending her stumbling backwards with a surprised cry. She heard Colonel O'Neill's voice, yelling her name. There was a brief glimpse of him – was he running toward her, his arm outstretched? – and then her feet met with only air beneath them and she was falling—

The water, when it crashed over her head, was warm, and tasted rotten. Instinctively, she clamped her mouth shut, flailing for a moment as she struggled to process what, exactly, had just happened to her. Her eyes opened, a flash of the other Carter's encounter passing through her mind, and she stared into the murk.

It was blurry, and stung viciously. She squeezed her eyelids together again, one of her hands making a few inches of progress towards them, before she'd forced them back open. Where was up? It was so dark… there was only the beam of her gun, by some miracle still shining. The light faded off into darkness where it pointing now, and she grappled at it, struggling to pull it around to somewhere else. She felt herself move, being pushed deeper by Newton's goddamn laws—they were wrong, anyway—and kicked to steady herself.

There wasn't much time. She had to find up. There were creatures in here, she'd have known it even if she hadn't seen the motion of the algae in the light, and if they didn't get her, she'd soon run out of air. She wasn't about to let herself drown. Her chest ached, whether from the impact or the lack of oxygen, she wasn't sure. Not that it mattered.

There – that was the surface. It was reflective, and moving. And… was that a light above it? _Colonel O'Neill…_ He'd look for her, wouldn't he? He'd dive in after her if he had to. Wouldn't he? She kicked desperately upwards, hands abandoning her gun to push at the water. There was a red haze floating around her – Carey's blood. In the water with sharks, and bleeding. Never a good combination.

Air. She needed air. How had she sunk so deep in so little time? It wasn't fair. She couldn't die. Not now, not when she had to help them get back – back to the copy SGC, back to the real SGC. Not now when she'd finally found an example of a rift, not now when she could finally have proof of a stable violation of cosmic censorship— Not now when there was _Jack_, so close, so real…

She kicked harder, barely seeming to make any progress. Her eyes flicked downwards for a moment, following the beam of her gun. The algae was swirling, freshly agitated. Something was moving – something was coming. She had to get out of there—

She reached up with one hand. Almost there… Air. Oh god, she needed air. Please, please, _please…_

Something wrapped around her wrist, firm and solid and warm. Not a creature, she begged dimly. Not a creature. Not fair…

Whatever it was that had her was hauling her upward. Just another second, her head would breach, there'd be air, she could breathe…

Something grazed her foot. Finally, her face broke the surface and she sucked in a lungful of air and water, coughing. For an instant, she registered the colonel's face, his hands pulling her up, and then whatever was below her clamped onto her ankle with stabbing pain. She was jerked down, wet fingers slipping through Jack's, and went back under. _No…_

She _wouldn't_ drown, be eaten, or die in any other way. Not now, not today, not tomorrow, and just as certainly not the day after. She caught a hold of her gun and aimed it at the vicious face below her. The trigger clicked uselessly.

Casting it aside and trusting its clip to keep it to her vest, she scrabbled for her knife. _That_ would work underwater. She managed to pull it from its sheath just as the creature found bottom and she felt rock along her leg. The teeth knifing into her leg shifted their grip and she yelled silently, watching helplessly as the bubbles of wasted air floated away. She pulled herself forward, knife in hand, stretching forward and ignoring the pain. It was pain or death. She'd choose the pain.

As the creature's jaws widened, teeth sliding part of the way out of her boot, she managed to jab the knife downwards. She had no leverage and very little force, but she had desperation, and the blade slipped smoothly into what she could only guess was an eye. It jerked away, the hilt of the knife shooting past her fingertips, and she was left floating, blood filtering out into the water around her.

At least, she knew which way was up this time.

She kicked, disregarding the stinging protest her ankle gave her, and pulled the water down. Newton's laws, as wrong as they were and as frustrating as they'd been just minutes earlier, were now working for her, and at the moment, she wouldn't trade them in for anything else. There, that was the colonel's light. He was still there, still waiting for her. If the adrenaline rushing through her hadn't been so all-encompassing, she might've felt warm at the thought.

He was ready to pull her out as she appeared, once again gasping for air. She was roughly dragged onto a rock and then to her feet, being half-carried over uneven ground before being deposited on what felt like dirt. She coughed, clearing the last of the water out of her lungs, and gasped again. Light-headed, she stared around at the wheeling jungle. The colonel's face intruded sickeningly into her view, spinning with the rest. She shut her eyes for a moment, swallowing the nausea.

"Carter!" he was saying sharply. "Carter!" She felt a hand tapping her cheek. "Hey, Carter."

She managed to spare enough air for a, "Hey, sir."

He grinned. "Alright," he cheered, voice quiet again. "You okay? What happened?"

"I got bitten, sir," she said, sucking in another deep breath. "My—my ankle. The sedative… I don't have much time."

He nodded, the hand that had been unconsciously smoothing her hair away from her face moving to her arm. "Can you walk?"

"Yes, sir," she said automatically, not entirely sure if it was the truth. But then, if Carey could walk, so could she.

She did, however, let him help her up. The world was still a little unsteady on its axis and she wavered, colliding unexpectedly with Jack's chest. "Sorry, sir," she said, taking a step back. His arm slipped around her waist and she felt heat drift up her neck. Too much proximity, too little oxygen. Bad mix.

Her ankle, at least, seemed to be holding.

Her head, if anything, was getting lighter. Her eyelids felt thick, drifting downwards despite her efforts to keep them up. "Sir," she managed to murmur, fairly sure her voice was slurred. "Sedative…"

"Just a little further, Carter," he ordered. "The others went ahead – we have to catch up. Come on, don't quit on me here." She caught her foot on something and stumbled, sagging in his arms as he tried to steady her. Her limbs were heavy and useless, like leaden jello. What a thought, she reflected vaguely. Lead jello. She wondered—

Jack's face appeared again, lips moving. She frowned, not understanding, closing eyes fixed on his mouth.

She wondered what it would taste like.

She wondered if she meant the jello.

And then she wondered, fleetingly, if she was unconscious yet.


	13. R1's Jack 2

Okay, so apparently I'm a fail and I named one of the chapters wrong. It said "R2's Jack 1" when it should have said "R1's Jack 1." This caused some confusion (sorry for that), so I thought I should clarify. That chapter was still about this Jack, from the first reality (where, way back in the day, Sam fell into the pond). Hope that sets it right! :)

That said, with no further ado, the next chapter... (also courtesy of the wondrous beta, beautiful-babee)

* * *

R1's Jack

With a small shudder at the sight of his own back moving off into the jungle, followed by the black-BDU Carter and Dawson, Colonel O'Neill mustered his team around him. Forcing himself not to glance after the duplicates, he turned to Carey. "You know the way to the pond?"

"Yes, sir," the lieutenant nodded.

"Good," said Jack. "Take point. Let's be quick – we've got an hour, but we shouldn't need it."

There were more nods, and they set off at a light jog. Teal'c brought up the rear, his light swivelling back and forth, keeping a characteristically watchful eye out. Jack, in the centre, watched their flanks, and Carey in the lead had their front covered. From the Gate to the pond had to be less than ten minutes at a pace like this, and then, following the description that the copies had given, the cave wasn't more than another minute away. O'Neill figured that had to make sense, since it was probably where the creatures hung out when they weren't being amphibious. Aquatic, he corrected vaguely.

Whatever.

It was nearby, it had the possibility of containing Daniel, and that was all that mattered. He could get Matheson to explain it to him later, if he really wanted to.

Not that he did.

They reached the pond without a hitch, and his thoughts went briefly out to the other team, wondering if they were having just as easy a time of it. He took over from Carey at point, his double's directions clear in his mind. _Around the shore to the left. Past the rotted out stump, to the right of the big, cat-shaped rock…_ To anyone else, perhaps, the directions might have been somewhat ambiguous. Jack knew what he'd meant. He _was_ him, after all.

As they passed the last landmark, a low-hanging branch with greyish ivy dangling from it, he held up a hand and crouched down. There were sounds coming from up ahead – screeches and thuds. "Lights," he whispered, and the three beams flicked off. Carefully, he lifted his head above the log they were huddled behind, peering into the gloom. For a long moment, all he saw was darkness – night vision goggles! Why had no one thought to bring night vision goggles? – unmoving and filled with noise. Then, slowly, he was able to pick out shapes.

From what he could tell, there were three creatures ahead of them. One was backing up towards the edge of a rocky cliff, faced by another. The third was off to one side, holding still. With a hiss, it lunged forward, slamming its shoulder into the second. They tumbled sideways and the cornered one took its chance, limping quickly into the deep blackness that had to be the cave's mouth. There was a squeal from the undergrowth where the other two had vanished, then a crunch and a rather triumphant warble. Then, a sound of ripping flesh, and Jack grimaced.

"Here's our opening," he muttered, motioning his team to their feet. "Teal'c, let's leave a flare out here."

The Jaffa nodded and tugged one from his vest pocket. "Shield your eyes," he instructed.

Jack did, and, through the cracks of his fingers, saw the red light burst to life. Wincing, he turned his head away, moving toward the cave. Knowing there was at least one creature inside, injured or not, he rummaged around in his pockets. "Second flare," he warned, striking it and tossing it into the blackness.

There was a shriek and a hiss, accompanied by scampering footsteps. Jack turned his gun's light back on, seeing the others follow suit out of the corner of his eye, and headed in.

It was a fairly large cave, wide and high-ceilinged. The walls were rough, mostly uneven stone with a few patches of dirt. The occasional root hung down, tangled and dead, between the cracks in the rock. There was a corner up ahead, presumably where the creature was hiding – and hopefully, where it was hiding Daniel.

"Flare," Jack warned again, rolling it forward. It was met with a screech and more scampering footsteps, and the colonel took it as his invitation in. Stepping quickly, he rounded the corner.

The creature was huddled against the wall, hissing and trying to get its head out of the blinding light. Jack grimaced, took aim, and hesitated. Such a pathetic sight… Was it really enough of a threat to merit killing?

"Daniel Jackson."

Teal'c's voice bounced off the walls, echoing back to them ten times louder. Jack watched the creature flinch, squealing, and turn toward them. Needle-like teeth parted, snapping at the air, and it stepped confrontationally away from the wall. A slumped form off to the left caught Jack's eye for a moment – Daniel. The creature shifted sideways, as if guarding its prey from the intruders. Jack moved forward carefully.

It lunged. He shot, his gun's barrel already perfectly aimed. The bullets caught it squarely between its side-set eyes, piercing skin and bone. The creature fell, crumpling into a black, shining heap. _Now_, it certainly wasn't a threat.

Jack hurried to where Teal'c already was, crouching over Daniel's unmoving body. Biting the inside of his cheek to steady himself, he made a pass at the critical question. "Is he—?" _Come_ _on, Daniel…_

"He is alive," Teal'c reported, the slightest touch of delight in his voice. "He does not appear to be gravely injured."

"Alright!" whooped Jack. "Way to go Danny-boy! C'mon, let's get him home."

The colonel turned to find Carey standing stiffly, staring down at the dead monster. He had his team back, but she'd lost hers. Understanding, he set a hand on her shoulder. "We knew we weren't gonna find him," he said quietly.

She nodded. "I know, sir." Her lips twitched. "Doesn't make it much easier, though."

Teal'c had lifted the archaeologist easily and was now standing behind Jack. The colonel turned, glancing over his shoulder at the two, then looked back at Carey. "Shake it off, lieutenant," he said, not uncaringly. "You can think about it all you want once we're back in the SGC."

"Yes, sir," she said, taking a final, disgusted look at the creature. "Are we ready to go?"

"Yep," said Jack. "Shall we?"

The flare by the mouth of the cave was just beginning to dim as they passed it. There was no sign of the other fighting creatures, which was both a positive and a negative. The one that had, from the sounds of things, won, might be nowhere nearby. Or, it might be just behind the fringe of the jungle, just waiting for them to leave the safety of the fading light.

"Carey," barked Jack. "Point. Watch your eyes, people – flare."

It bloomed into life and he held onto it, keeping it as far away from himself as his arm would reach. "Let's move!"

Teal'c, somehow, managed a slow jog, protected on both sides by Carey and Jack. The flare cast their immediate surroundings in brilliant light, but beyond its reach, they were blind. Still, it was enough to move by, and the creatures, hopefully, wouldn't get too close. Jack could hear them, hissing and snapping, occasionally a screech. They were nearby, maybe lurking in the shadows, just a few yards away.

The flare was burning down – he wouldn't be able to hold it much longer. Letting his gun dangle for a moment, he pulled another out of his vest. The last one. The heat was starting to hurt, stinging at his fingers. He tried to tuck them down a little further, but only ended up dropping the nearly-spent stick. It tumbled away, landing flame-first in the mud. Smothered, it vanished.

"Dammit," muttered Jack, and struck the new one.

They'd only been in darkness for at most five seconds, but already a creature had started in toward them. It screeched in the sudden light and leapt back into the trees, hissing. Jack, picking his gun back up with his free hand, fired a few shots after it.

They were getting close to the clearing – they'd come back out onto the main path. It was wider, for which they were all very thankful, and it meant they were almost home.

"How're you doing there, buddy?" Jack asked, watching the muscles in Teal'c's shoulders strain.

"I am well, O'Neill," the Jaffa replied stoically. Typical, thought Jack. "And you?"

"I'm well, too," Jack replied. "Not much further."

Teal'c didn't answer. Jack didn't blame him. He wouldn't want to carry Daniel for five minutes, let alone fifteen.

At last, the clearing. And, the best part, it was _clear_. There wasn't a creature in sight. Holding his flare out like a weapon, he called to Carey to dial them home. He heard it powering up behind them as the flame began to bite at his fingers again. Gritting his teeth, he held onto it, not willing to give up their safety. He listened to the keys locking in, feeling the heat crawl closer and closer.

There – the Gate was open. He dropped the flare with a small shout, jerking his hand away and shaking it as he dashed after Teal'c. Then, it was up the stairs, through the shimmer, and, for the last time, away from the damn planet.

Greeting him on the other side were Fraiser, a team of medics, at least three stretchers, and his blue-BDU Carter. He stepped out onto the ramp, just in time to see her register just who it was Teal'c was carrying. Joy soared across her face, lips parting into one of those Smiles, and then froze. He saw the question in her mind: is he alive? The smile vanished and she stepped forward.

Not quickly enough, apparently. Fraiser was already there with her medics, taking Daniel from Teal'c's arms. He was loaded onto a stretcher, and, despite her efforts to follow, wheeled swiftly away from Carter. She stared after him, then turned wide blue eyes on Jack as he stepped down onto the concrete.

"Sir—"

"He's okay," he said. "He's okay."

The relief that washed over her was almost physically painful for him to watch without sweeping her up into his arms. He stared down at her as she wrapped her arms around herself, as if to contain her emotions, and smiled back up at him. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Hey," he said, taking half a step back and holding out his hands, trying at lightening the mood. "I didn't have anything to do with it. It's all him – you know how hard he is to kill."

She laughed. "Yes, sir," she agreed. "If you say so."

He could feel the stiffness between them. It was still there, hovering, looming, as if it should be able to be swept easily aside. It was, apparently, harder than it seemed, and despite trying to tell himself that this was still Carter, and it was still in the room, the stiffness stayed.

They would talk later.

In a room.

A private room.

"_Colonel O'Neill,"_ Hammond's voice boomed over the loudspeakers. The colonel looked up, forcibly shoving thoughts of Sam out of his head. _"Congratulations. Well done. Now report to the infirmary and let Doctor Fraiser have a look at you."_

He'd grumbled a bit about being perfectly fine, but had gone anyway. Carter had followed, seemingly having nothing better to do. She had to have _something_, he reasoned, but she didn't look inclined to run off and do it. Half way to the infirmary, it had hit him.

He was _tired_. When had he last slept? He tried to remember, but came up with only a cluttered blur of dark images. He'd been running on adrenaline for much too long, his body was suddenly saying. Any protests he might have made were forgotten, and he flopped onto the bed willingly. Despite having been asked to sit, he lay, and within moments, was drifting off to sleep.

Dimly, he heard Fraiser's voice, sounding slightly exasperated. Then, there was Carter with a small laugh and a comment that that was _exactly_ what she wanted to do, too.

She wanted to sleep? his foggy brain wondered. He cracked on eye open with difficulty, seeing her looking down at him. She wanted to sleep… with him?

No, that couldn't be right.

It could, however, make for some very pleasant dreams.

As usual, when he woke up, he didn't remember them. He opened his eyes slowly, finding the room dark. He tensed, holding still and listening. No sound. Where was his gun? Silently, he felt around for it. Not under the pillow, not on the bedside table…

Bedside table? He blinked. What was his bedside table doing in the middle of the jungle?

His fingers felt their way up the lamp and switched it on. Warm light filled the room, making him squeeze his eyes shut. Opening them a moment later, he stared around. What…

He was in his quarters, on base. Not in the jungle. He shook his head. _Wake up, Jack_, he told himself, swinging his legs out of the bed. What time was it? The clock on the table read 0436. How long had he been asleep?

Was the second team back yet? They had to be. They'd left before midnight, and had only had four hours. So, either they were back, or something had happened.

He hopped to his feet, scanning the room for his uniform. Of course, he thought vaguely, it was probably in for washing. Opening the closet, he pulled another off its hanger and slipped into it. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, then hurried out of the room.

As he slowed to a stop in front of the elevator, tapping one foot impatiently, he was joined by a certain sleepy-looking major. "Carter," he greeted her.

"Sir," she returned, smothering a yawn. Giving herself a small shake, she rubbed her eyes quickly then smoothed her hands over her hair. Visibly more awake, she offered him a smile.

"So," he said. "What brings you here, so early in the morning?"

She blinked. "They paged us, sir," she said.

"They did?" He hadn't heard it. Though, it would explain why he was so awake after only three or four hours of sleep… "Huh."

She grinned a bit and ducked her head to hide it, letting him motion her into the elevator first when the doors opened. "Yes, sir," she said as he followed her in. "They didn't say what for."

He glanced at the button she pressed. "Infirmary?"

"Yes, sir," she said again, a bit ominously.

He knew they were both thinking the same thing. It could be either Daniel, or the other team. It could also, in either case, be good, or very, _very_ bad.


	14. R2's Carter 3

Again, thank you to my wonderful beta, beautiful-babee, for catching all my horrible mistakes, and for sticking with me no matter how terrible a client I am. :)

We're coming up on the last few chapters -- enjoy!

* * *

R2's Carter

If Carter had been thinking – _really _thinking – when she'd passed out, she might have had some doubts as to whether or not she'd wake up again. There was the fact that she was losing blood, that they were being hunted by things that were attracted to the scent of that blood, and that she was now a hundred and forty-some pound burden for Colonel O'Neill to manage, while avoiding said hunters. But, as it were, she hadn't really been thinking.

Well, except about lead jello, and what the colonel himself might taste like.

But that wasn't really thinking.

When her eyes _did_ open, to the sight of a concrete ceiling and fluorescent lights, though, she felt a small wash of relief. She then felt the sting of too much brightness, and shut her eyes again, cringing away. She was in the infirmary; her brief venture into the world had given her enough information for that. Her left ankle ached dully, and as she took a moment to explore the reason, she came up with flashes of startling memories. Drowning, pain, teeth, Colonel O'Neill's fingers slipping through her own…

Her eyes shot open and she flinched at the lights, squinting and feeling reflexive tears prickle behind her eyelids. Somewhere nearby, a heart monitor beeped a little faster.

Turning her head sideways to let herself adjust to the light, she pressed a hand, complete with a catheter, to her forehead. The heart monitor, just a few feet away, was hooked up to her, and the heart beat that had accelerated was hers. The electrodes on her chest, now that she'd noticed them, itched slightly. The hand on her forehead moved down, drifting over the small bumps of the connectors beneath her whitish hospital gown, before settling by her side again.

The curtain parted and emitted Janet Fraiser, probably drawn by the beeping of her increased pulse. The doctor smiled at her, clipboard in hand.

"Hey," she said. "Good to see you awake."

Sam smiled back, struggling to sit up. Her ankle protested violently at the movement and she winced, settling back down against the pillow.

"Careful," warned Janet.

"How long was I out?" Sam asked, hand lifting to push back a piece of hair that had fallen over her eye.

"Just under two hours," the doctor informed her.

Carter's eyebrows rose. "That's all? The people we found had been out for—" She broke off, more important thoughts intruding. "Did they make it back? Are they okay?" She looked around uselessly at her room, curtained off from the rest of the infirmary. "Where's Colonel O'Neill? And what about the other team?"

"Whoa," Janet said kindly, holding up a hand. "Easy. Tell you what, I'll get the colonel for you, and, if you're feeling up to walking a bit, you can see for yourself."

"Wha—Janet!" Sam called after her as she slipped back out of the room. "Wait! That's not an answer…"

The sudden appearance of Colonel O'Neill's head poking around the curtain cut off any other protests she might have had. Seeing her half-sitting up in the bed, he entered the rest of the way. "Hi," he said, giving a small, rather awkward wave.

"Hi, sir," she said. "What happened?"

He eased himself down onto the bed by her knees, the motion looking like it hurt. She felt her brows draw together. Was that her fault? She knew he had a bad back. Had having to carry her all that way made it worse? Her fretting was interrupted when he started talking.

"You passed out," he began. "Venom in the bite, I guess. I picked you up—had to drop your pack, though. Hope you didn't have anything special in it." She shook her head. "Good. Anyway. The others had continued on ahead after you fell into the pond. They had to get going back. The things were all around us…"

Listening to the story of what had happened after she'd fainted only made her feel frustrated at her own uselessness. Dawson, the sole uninjured person in the group that had gone ahead, had had to half-drag Carey and watch out for Higgs, who was unarmed, all the way through a dark, hostile jungle, to an invisible rift. Just after crossing, Jack had caught up to them, despite having to carry Carter. Higgs had taken Dawson's gun, probably more effective with both his hands free, and Jack still had his, despite being occupied with Carter. It left them with one and a half guards against a world-full of predators. Someone had had the idea to use more flares, and Dawson had held one of those in the hand that wasn't keeping Carey upright.

The flare had helped, and they'd been fine until the three they had had burned out. Then, nearly to the Gate again, they'd met with a creature on the path. It had gone straight for Dawson and Carey, but Higgs had managed to get in a few good shots and it had stumbled, narrowly missing knocking them both into the mud. Then, leaving the dying thing behind without a second thought, they'd continued, and had met shortly later with another, just after stepping into the clearing to the Gate. It had gotten its teeth into Higgs' shoulder, sending the major to the ground.

"I was the only one with a gun," Jack said, looking a little guilty. "I uh… I dropped you." Carter's brows shot up. So _that_ was why _her_ back was aching a bit… "Gently, mind. As gently as I could, anyway. I needed to have my hands free." He eyed her, as if looking for either forgiveness or a reprimand.

"It's okay, sir," she said, laughing a bit. The image, she had to admit, was sort of amusing. Or maybe it was just the way he'd presented it, with that sheepish look.

"The ground was soft, in any case," the colonel added, shifting a little closer to her on the bed. "I managed the get the thing in the face. It let go of Higgs and he dialled out while I went back for you. Then, finally, we got here."

"I can't believe you all made it back," she said, impressed. "Is Carey alright? And Higgs? And you, sir? You look a little… sore."

He shrugged. "Just put the ol' back out a little, pulling you up out of the pond. Nothing to worry about. Higgs'll be fine – his bite isn't much worse than yours. Carey… well, they're working on her now. It doesn't look like she'll keep the arm."

Carter winced. "Poor girl," she murmured. The colonel nodded, and they sat in silence for a moment. Remembering the other team, she opened her mouth to ask after them, but was interrupted by the intercom.

"_Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter, please report to the infirmary. Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter to the infirmary."_

"That would be the _other_ us, I suppose," said Jack.

It was a few minutes before they heard their own voices outside. "Don't think I'll ever get used to that," the colonel muttered.

Sam smiled. "It takes a while, sir," she said.

The curtains parted, revealing Dr. Fraiser, accompanied by the copies.

"Nope," said Jack. "Never gonna get used to it.

"As you can see," said Fraiser to the doubles, ignoring Sam's colonel, "They're doing well. Major Carter has a bite on her ankle, but it should be fully healed within a few weeks."

"A few weeks," Sam echoed.

"_Fully_ healed," said Janet, now addressing her. "You'll be able to walk comfortably on it before that, but I wouldn't recommend anything strenuous." She turned back to the doubles. "If you'll follow me, Daniel's awake."

"They found him," Carter commented as the visitors left again, happy for her counterpart.

The colonel nodded. "He looks okay, too."

"Good," said Sam. "I don't know what I'd do if we lost Daniel."

The colonel shook his head. "Me neither. Nothing good, I bet."

* * *

The debriefing was to be about six hours later. Carter spent her time sleeping, eating, and trying to remember how to walk on crutches. The colonel, likewise, spent his time sleeping, eating, and teasing her as she tried to remember how to walk on crutches. Higgs spent his time fast asleep, Dawson was off somewhere, probably working on his report, and Carey spent most of her time in surgery, unconscious. The doubles had stayed for a while, talking with their Daniel, and then disappeared. Daniel, Younge, Cullins, and Jenson had dropped in to see how everyone was doing and drifted about for varying lengths of time, then left again.

The debriefing, when they finally returned to it, began with their various misadventures trying to recover their teammates. Carter and her double diverged for a few moments, discussing the echoes they seemed to have made of each other in their separate realities, both falling into the pond, both being bitten on the same leg, and so on. One of the colonels spoke up, a little dryly. "So it's like that movie," he said. "You know, with that actress?" Receiving only blank stares, he tried again. "You know, like the butterfly effect. Only with monsters. The dragonfly effect?" He considered. "Has a ring to it."

Higgs snickered quietly, and the Carters refrained from commenting.

After being called back to task by General Hammond, they moved on, and on, and on. It felt like hours, just rehashing the details of the past—forty-eight hours? Was it really only forty-eight hours? And that included the time they'd spent in the SGC. It had felt like days…

By the time the debriefing finished, fifty hours had passed since the initial incident. They dispersed tiredly, stiff from sitting for so long and sore from the punishment they'd been subjected to back on the planet. Carey was the only one to have made it back who wasn't at the briefing. The rest of them were granted guest quarters for the remaining two days of their stay, and they retired gladly.

Ideas had begun to brew in Carter's mind during the briefing, and she was looking forward to having a chance to work them out in more detail. The rift had remained stable for this long already, both with and without the Gate active. When the radio station's batteries ran out and it stopped transmitting, would the rift close? That was what she wanted to have a look at.

Sitting down at her desk, she opened the laptop the base had loaned her, and was just getting past the boot-up screen when a knock sounded at her door. Sighing and wondering if she was ever going to get any work done, she called for whoever it was to come in.

"Uh," said her own voice, "Hi."

She turned in the chair, not particularly wanting to stand. "Hi," she returned.

"I was… thinking," the double said slowly, "about the rift. It stayed stable – in the same place, in the same shape – for at least five hours. We activated the Gate several times during that, and it didn't seem to have any effect. I was wondering whether or not it's become freestanding, or if it's relying on the radio signal somehow."

Sam smiled a bit. "I was just thinking about the same thing," she said. "I was going to try to work some models, see if I could come up with an answer."

"Oh," said her copy. "Well, I can go if you'd rather work alone. But I've got my laptop. We could see what we could come up with together." She grinned.

"Two heads are better than one," they quipped at the same time, then flinched, identical.

"I hate it when that happens," Sam groaned. "God, remember Samantha? That was awful."

The copy laughed. "No kidding. Do you have any idea how many times Colonel O'Neill's made some kind of joke about it?"

"Yep," Sam said, wishing she didn't.

"Obviously," the double said, shaking her head a bit. "I keep forgetting we only diverged a few hours ago. Did we agree it was the pond thing?"

"Well," Sam said carefully, "You knew the gun was from Belgium. I had to guess. From that, we might've diverged a long time before, but stayed similar."

"Remarkably similar," the copy agreed. "What do you think the odds of that are?"

Sam shrugged. "Very low."

Her double nodded. "_Very_ low. But I don't see what else it could be."

"Does it really matter?" asked Sam. "I mean, we did diverge at some point. It doesn't make much difference to the rift it we diverged a long time ago, does it?"

"I doubt it," the double said. "So, back to the initial topic? Let's get these computers set up."

They linked the two of them and opened the simulation software on the double's, saving their progress to both. Inputting parameters, however, turned out to be not as simple as they'd hoped.

"It's unpredictable," the copy pointed out, frustrated. "How are we supposed to predict it, if its very nature is unpredictable?"

"We don't know enough about it to work around that, either," Carter sighed, leaning on one hand and typing with the other. "We have the radio signal strength, but we don't know how much was actually being used by the Gate."

"We could calculate how much was being absorbed by the Gate, though," her twin said, sitting up a little straighter and hitting a few numbers. She paused, halfway through the first calculation. "No. It might have absorbed it, but some of the energy could've just been runoff into the ground instead of being used by the activator crystal." She slumped onto the desk. "It's useless. This doesn't tell us anything."

Sam found herself mirroring the posture. "I wish we could've gotten some readings somehow. Was it emitting energy? I didn't notice anything that behaved like an event horizon…" She sighed. "I hope we can get a good look when we go back."

The double nodded tiredly. "I hope it's still there when we go back," she murmured.

Carter considered for a moment. If it wasn't there, she and the rest of her group were in serious trouble. They would have to find a way to reopen it, or they would be stuck here. Within a week or two, they would be torn apart by matter displacement, a fate she did not look forward to experiencing.

She sighed again. Either the rift would be there, or it wouldn't. They couldn't change the outcome of that. They could only deal with the aftermath.

For a long moment, the two of them sat in silence, staring dully at their twin screens.

"Don't you have other work to do?" Sam asked, chin pressing into her arm as she spoke.

Her double's eyes looked over at her. "Not really," she said. "Normally after a mission, I go home for the night. Hammond's requested that we all stay on base until this is over, but there isn't much any of us have to do, in terms of work." She glanced back at the computer. "Would you prefer that I left? We're not really accomplishing much."

Sam considered for a beat. "No, that's alright. Unless you want to go."

"No," said the copy. "It's kind of… nice, sitting here with you. With myself." She frowned slightly. "Weird, but nice."

Sam laughed. "Yeah," she agreed.

There was another moment's silence, and then, "You know, the mirroring effect we noticed is interesting. Between our separate realities? Wonder what would have caused it."

"Maybe just coincidence," Sam shrugged.

"Maybe," said the double, apparently not as willing to let it go. "But…" She hesitated, sitting up again. Still slouched on the desk, Sam looked over at her. "Look, can I ask you something? It's a little… well, personal, but you _are_ me."

"Sure," said Sam, a bit warily, sitting up as well. "What?"

The double hesitated again, seeming to consider how to begin. "After Daniel… When Daniel was taken, we had just gotten to the radio station."

"I know," said Carter. "You mentioned it in the debriefing."

"I didn't mention _this_," the double said, shaking her head. "I tried to go after him. I couldn't just let him die like that. Colonel O'Neill pulled me back – there was another creature heading for us. He locked us inside the station. I tried to get out again. I don't know, I wasn't thinking, I guess. I just _couldn't_ sit there while Daniel was taken away."

Sam nodded. "I understand," she said. She'd probably have done the same thing.

"The colonel and I…" the double continued slowly. She was staring at her hands, folded on the table. "We were yelling at each other. I said I didn't care, that I'd go alone… He pushed me against the wall, shouting in my face that I had a job to do. He was right, obviously. I wasn't in my right mind…" She shook her head again. "I finally got a hold of myself and stopped fighting him. I cried. He… hugged me, I guess. I don't really remember. I think he might've cried too. Then he… he kissed me."

Sam felt her mouth fall open. "He what?" She couldn't have heard that right. The colonel would _never_—it went against all the rules they'd tried to keep between them—

"He kissed me," the double said again, pinking a bit.

Still shocked, Carter blinked and worked at formulating a rational question. "Did you…" she tried, "Did you kiss him back?"

Turning a darker pink, her twin nodded. "And then we…" She hid her face in her hands. "Oh my god… I can't believe we—"

Sam gaped. "You had _sex_ with him?" she echoed, incredulous.

Mortified, the copy nodded. "Against the wall," she whispered, face still hidden beneath her hands.

"No wonder you didn't mention _that_ at the debriefing…" Sam muttered. Holy _Hannah_. She had had _sex _with_ Colonel O'Neill? _And against a wall, no less. "For crying out loud…"

The double almost flinched at the familiar expression. "I don't think… I don't think either of us really _meant _it. You know? I think we just needed something to distract us from the fact that we'd just lost Daniel, and—"

Knowing that was exactly the kind of thing she'd try to think, had she done the same thing, Carter didn't entirely buy it. "If Colonel O'Neill had died instead," she commented, "you wouldn't have had sex with Daniel, would you?"

Mutely, the copy shook her head. "But it isn't like we're suddenly… _together_, now," she said. "It's still in the room." How it could still be in the room after something like that, Sam didn't know. "Look," the double said, dropping her hands and looking over at her. "I just wanted to ask if something… similar had happened in your reality. But from your reaction, I'm guessing not."

Carter shook her head. "No," she said firmly. "Definitely not."

Her counterpart sighed slightly. "I should really get going," she said, standing. "I uh… I have work to do."

Ignoring the fact that she'd said she _didn't_ have work to do just a few minutes before, Sam let her go. She turned back by the door. "You won't say anything, will you?" she asked, looking a bit worried.

"Of course not," Sam assured her. She _couldn't_. It would be like betraying herself.

The double nodded and reached for the doorknob. "Hey," said Sam, feeling a small grin creep across her face. "Wait. Was it good, at least?"

Her counterpart ducked her head, a mirrored grin spreading on her lips. "It was amazing," she admitted, then slipped around the opening door and was gone.

Sam stared after her. So, she'd gotten half an answer to one of her brink-of-unconscious quandaries. Now, all she had to figure out was what lead jello would taste like, because Colonel O'Neill tasted like amazing.

Though, she figured, maybe she should try to confirm that, because she could probably go without trying the jello.


	15. R1's Jack 3

R1's Jack

One day.

There was one day left before this whole thing would be over, before he could stop trying to keep the two Carters straight in his head. As if it wasn't enough just being plain _weird_, he was always forgetting to look for the visitor tag before addressing them, and more than once had mistaken the copy for the real. Thankfully, he'd yet to say anything stupid that could get them in trouble, but she kept looking at him oddly. Did she know, somehow?

Were they telepathically linked? What if the two of them had the same thoughts, now that they were in the same reality? _God knows they have enough thoughts to share…_ Jack thought darkly. Then, he paused. Telepathically linked? he echoed to himself. _Get a hold of yourself. You're paranoid._

"I was _always_ paranoid," he grumbled under his breath, glancing around to make sure neither Carter was in the vicinity.

They weren't, but when he turned back around to where he was walking, a chipper-looking Daniel was standing before him. He stopped, nearly crashing into him. "Hey, Jack," said Daniel.

"Hey, Daniel," said Jack, a bit warily, remembering to check for the tag. Not there. "_My_ Daniel?"

"If you're… _my_ Jack," Daniel mimicked. He grinned. "I'm from here."

"Ah," said Jack. "Good. Me too." He shook his head. "This whole thing is too damn confusing."

Daniel smiled slightly and nodded. Jack waited for him to say something. He didn't. "You going that way?" He pointed down towards the commissary.

"Yep," said Daniel.

"Good," said Jack. "Me too."

"So," Jack began as they turned the corner. "I take it you're feeling better."

"Yeah," Daniel said brightly. "Dr. Fraiser gave me a clean bill half an hour ago. I'm glad to be out of there, walking around again. I also…" he said as the doors swung open, "am looking forward to some real food."

"As real as it gets down here, anyway," Jack muttered, catching sight of a familiar blonde head. He broke away from Daniel with a pat on the shoulder. "Enjoy. I hear the stewed carrots are especially _real_."

He approached Carter at a leisurely pace, peering around her table as he walked. No crutches. Probably his, then. But, to be sure…

He sat down across from her and she jumped. Yep, his. She was always jumpy around him nowadays… "Sir!" she exclaimed. "I didn't see you."

"You're facing the wrong way," he pointed out, indicating the direction he'd come. "How's it goin'?"

"Good," she replied sceptically, eyeing him as if trying to figure out what he was up to. "How are you, sir?"

"Good," he returned. "Almost done eating?" He glanced pointedly at the half-empty cup of melted ice cream.

She followed his gaze and flushed. "I must've forgotten about it," she said, having a spoonful and grimacing. "Warm," she said, putting the spoon back and pushing the cup away from herself.

How long had she been sitting there? "Whatcha up to that's kept you from your ice cream?" he inquired, pulling the cup towards himself. He tried a bit experimentally. Butterscotch. Not bad, but not exactly good warm.

Not bad, though… He took another spoonful.

She sighed, ignoring him as he finished off her dessert. "I've been trying to work out alternate ways to reopen the rift, should it close before the other team can get back. I spent most of this morning and about an hour yesterday with my copy, but we hardly got anywhere. There just isn't enough information." She sighed again, passing a hand over her face and into her hair. He knew that gesture well: weariness, frustration, and boredom.

"It's not gonna change much if you leave it for a while, is it?" he asked, setting the spoon back in the now-empty bowl.

"No, sir," she admitted with a third sigh and closed her folder, finally meeting his eye. She looked away again quickly, fiddling instead with the folder's label.

They were going to have a talk. Oh yes, they were going to talk. Right now.

He'd spent the past day and a half trying to get her alone, and had been constantly met with half-hearted excuses and those shifting eyes of hers. Now, he seemed to have finally caught her when she couldn't claim she had anywhere else to be. She wasn't going to escape this time.

"Then come on," he said, standing. "We've got some work to do."

She followed him, half a step behind, to the elevator, and then up the four levels to his on-base quarters. She stepped inside carefully, he noticed. She'd been inside before – there was no need for wariness. Unless the way her eyes had fallen on the bed was accurately depicting what she was thinking, which was exactly the same thing he was thinking, which was that maybe he should've chosen somewhere _other_ than his bedroom for this discussion.

But, they were there now, and going somewhere else would've just been useless. They weren't going to be comfortable with it, or, in all likelihood, its outcome, no matter where they were.

"Look," he began. He saw her eyes jerk away from the bed, as if she'd been caught watching something illegal. "You know why we're here."

She nodded.

"You can't say you haven't been avoiding me," he said.

She shook her head.

"We need to sort this out."

She nodded.

"Come on, Carter," he groaned. "Help me out here. We have to get things back to _normal_, whatever normal is. This—_that—_what we did, it shouldn't get between us like it is. We're still a team. We still have to work together."

"I know, sir," she said, which really wasn't much better than a nod.

"What's it gonna take?" he asked. "You've been acting like…" He froze. She'd been acting almost _afraid_ of him. Terrible, cold fear crept up his chest. "You _did_ want it, too, right? I mean, I didn't—" Christ, he hadn't _forced _her, had he? His mind raced. She'd kissed him back, it wasn't like it'd been one-sided—

"No!" she exclaimed. "I mean, yes, sir. I mean—" She shook her head, trying to sort out _what_ she meant. "I wanted it," she said a second later, softly.

He let out a sigh of relief. Thank god. But that still left the question. "So why act so damn scared of me all the time?"

"I'm not—" she began to protest.

"You are," he interrupted.

"Well I didn't _mean_ to," she said, a bit huffy at being cut off. "I just… I didn't know what to say to you. I mean, everything feels different now. Like it all changed."

He nodded, wincing slightly. "I was kinda hoping it would pass."

"Me too," she admitted. "But it's not."

"Maybe if we give it more time?" he suggested feebly.

"What about the meantime?" she sighed. "We have to work together now, too."

"Well what other choice do we have?" he asked. "I'm not exactly ready for retirement – again – and don't even _suggest_ giving up your career."

She blinked. "I wasn't going to."

"Oh," he said. Was that a smirk tugging at her lips? "So. Where does that leave us?" He paused. "_Us_," he repeated. "Is there _us_?"

Her brows drew together slightly, looking pained. _I want there to be_, her expression said. Her arms, folded beneath her chest, tightened their grip. She, herself, didn't reply, but everything else about her said exactly what he both wanted and _really_ didn't want to hear.

Then, almost silently, he heard her voice. Just a whisper. "We could keep it secret."

His eyes slid shut. Temptation like that before him wasn't something he should be seeing right now. He sensed her beginning to backpedal, and then she started rambling reasonings and excuses.

"I mean, it's not like it's going to change anything," she was saying. If he knew her right, which he did, she would be gesturing with her hands, fanning uselessly at the air as if she could push all the awkwardness away. "We already…" She bit off the sentence uncomfortably. Yep, definitely fanning at the air. "Sir, it's not like anything more will make a difference. It probably never would've, not since that… za'tarc thing. And I—" She stumbled, and he opened his eyes. She'd drawn her bottom lip between her teeth and was looking at the floor.

She seemed too fragile to be left standing alone like that, and so despite what had happened last time he'd hugged her, he stepped forward and drew her carefully into his arms. She stiffened for a moment, then melted against him, leaning her cheek on his shoulder. He felt her sigh softly.

"Thank you, sir," she whispered.

Not entirely sure what he was being thanked for, he patted her lightly on the back. "You're welcome?"

He felt her smile and knew she knew exactly what he was thinking. "_I_ don't know what for," she told him. "For getting us home, I guess. For finding Daniel…"

He frowned slightly at that and pulled her away from him. He peered down at her. This had been bugging him, niggling away at the back of his mind, ever since the incident in the radio station. And while this was, perhaps, not quite the best moment to bring it up… "Do you _like_ him, or what?" he asked, figuring bluntness was the easiest, if perhaps not the best, way to address the issue.

She blinked. "What?"

"Daniel," he clarified. "Do you like him? I mean, you _did_ say his name when we…" He cleared his throat. "And you've been all—"

"Sir," she said, looking like she was somewhere near laughing, "No. As a friend, of course. But not romantically. You know that."

He nodded, a small breath of relief leaving him anyway. "Yeah."

She was looking up at him, the fragility of before gone. Her lips were quirked slightly, and her eyes glowed in the dim lights of the room. Idly, and because he suddenly – though maybe wrongly – felt like he could, he reached a hand up and touched her hair. His fingers slipped into it, gliding through the soft strands and brushing over the scalp. Her eyes closed briefly, then found his again. She smiled.

He loved her.

And she knew it.

"Marry me?" he whispered. Her breath caught.

"When this—" she gestured minimally, vaguely, "_all_ this, is over?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," she nodded, smile spreading to its full force. "Yes."

He grinned, hands sliding down to cup her face. "Good," he said, and bent to kiss her.

Drawing back a long moment later, slightly breathless, she beamed at him. "Back to normal," she said, somewhere between a question and a confirmation.

He shrugged, tugging her gently toward the bed. "Almost," he said. "Couple more things to take care of."

Laughing, she followed. It would be the last time, for a long time, and when it was over they would have to go back to some approximation of how they'd always been. But, for now, they had the moment, and afterwards, they'd have each other.

Always, he promised. She just smiled and kissed him again.

* * *

Watching Carter leave was easier than he'd expected. Much as he might have liked to keep her with him for hours, maybe even days, they both knew better. It was back to reality, back to their lives, and back to normality. He didn't mind. He had Carter, and finally in every way he wanted.

Even if he had to wait another few years. He could manage that.

He did, of course, hope they finished _this—all this_, soon.

Wisely, they'd left it undefined, but Jack was well aware that any real sort of relationship would have to wait until the Goa'uld were, at least, much less of a threat. It might be a while – they'd both acknowledged that.

Jack figured they could have moments, for the meantime.

It would be good.

In fact, it would be _pretty damn_ good.

He had kissed Carter. He, Colonel Jack O'Neill, had kissed – _really_ kissed – Major Samantha Carter, and the world hadn't ended. In fact, kissing Carter had turned out to be nowhere near as fatal as he'd expected. No one had showed up to dishonourably discharge him on the spot, no one had shot him, no one had even said boo. The world hadn't ended. Yet.

And if and when it did end, he was _pretty damn_ sure he'd die a happy man.

He left his quarters on that rather optimistic of notes, and headed for the briefing room, having been summoned yet again. Nearly forty-eight hours had passed since the doubles had arrived in the SGC, and Jack suspected they were now preparing to send them home. Fine by him.

He was right, it turned out. The others were assembling as he arrived, and after a quick word from Hammond, they headed out to gear up. They all knew the deal: it was back to the planet, back to the rift, and hopefully back home for the doubles. The Carters had concluded – though rather inconclusively – that the rift would still be open.

They were, as was apparently neither of their norms, wrong.

The rift was closed. Or at least, gone.

"Well," said Jack. "That's handy."


End file.
